


Curses of Camelot

by Lessa



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Avalon - Freeform, Blind Uther, Blood Magic, Cat Merlin, Catha, Creepy Uther, Cunning librarians, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Glitter loves Merlin, Lies, Lost ghosts, M/M, Merlin is not subtle, Non-Merlin revelations, Oblivious, Oh god the vaults, Paranoid Uther, Sarcastic ghosts, Scheming Uther, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, Sidhe, Sprites, Tattoos, The Merlin List, The vaults, Tis a silly place, Truth Spells, What if?, bastards, no longer a one shot, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 50
Words: 250,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lessa/pseuds/Lessa
Summary: Initially a series of one shots of curses based around potholes. Sub-series from chapter 18 operating on the basis of Agravaine not existing (because writing him makes me want to bathe in dettol) and Arthur actually having to think for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

The old woman didn’t bother to control the violent tremors that shook her frame with the knowledge of what awaited her in the morning. She could hear the pyre being constructed, a deliberate cruelty on the part of Uther when he had chosen the cells in which to hold magic users. 

She was no High Priestess of Nimueh’s power, but a low priestess she was, and had trained to serve the goddess from girlhood, a calling that she was proud of;  her years of service had enhanced a naturally strong desire to nurture and protect others. 

When the witch hunters had captured her and dragged her where she would meet her doom Aggie had used the journey to prepare herself for the derision and hate of the folk she had once cared for, a hatred of her own burning in her gut, the sickening pain of betrayal ever present.

When she was thrown to the floor before Uther though, bound, gagged, and bloodied, she saw in the faces of his courtiers, his servants, not hatred but raw fear. A fear not of  _ her _ she knew, having shared rites with some of them in the past, but of  _ him. _ Of suspicion and the risk that came with showing sympathies. One in particular she recognised and the shame was visible, and she remembered his twins, barely out of infancy, giggling and playing in the river. How could she truly hate him for trying to save his babies from burning. 

It did not stop the bitterness from tainting her heart, but she realised that she could forgive him, and those like him. The image stayed with her as she was led away to the dungeons. She hadn’t spoken at the judgement, she refused to take Uther’s bait and let him feel more of a victory. She wondered what she could do to protect those who were hidden away from the King’s notice.

Tonight Aggie was held in cold iron cuffs, but once they bound her to the pyre they would be removed she knew, Uther wouldn’t risk destroying those abominations.

Not for someone like her.

The pain was too distracting to properly concentrate, but she tried to think of any spell that would be quick to cast, could be done before the flames prevented her from doing anything useful. Short. It had to be short. She would send her everything, her full power into this she decided, keeping nothing to blunt the pain or try to induce sleep on the pyre, and have an anchor that would not be tampered with. 

By morning she had managed to form something of a plan. Aggie was a practical woman, and no matter who lived in the castle, there was one thing in the courtyard that was sacrosanct to all. No one noticed the well unless it was poisoned, it was an easy shape to work with, and the royals were guaranteed not to fetch their own water anyway. A suitable vessel. 

Tightly bound as she was, atop the pyre, there was a moment, just before the torch touched the kindling where the cuffs were removed and Aggie was briefly reunited with her magic. 

 

_ “Synderlic witodlic, warian dîegol, wîgheafola ðætte ðrêowan n¯ænig pro hearmian “ _

__

To see only what they looked for and not that which was hidden, to shield those who meant no harm.

Aggie was no fool, she knew she didn’t have the strength to save her brothers and sisters from the monsters even before she had been weakened by the abuse, but it would be enough to blind them to some things, and save a few lives, and in the end, saving lives was what she had spent her life doing. Fuck Uther, the bastard could burn her, but she made sure that when she cast, she looked him full in the eyes so he saw hers flash golden. He’d murder her without remorse, but he’d never know what that last act was, and  _ that  _ would keep him awake at night.

__

The old sorceress would never know it, but seventeen years later, it would result in the mad king, who had long ago forgotten her, dismissing the bold claims of a young Emrys as the infatuation of a lovesick fool. 

It would also prevent the daughter of a blacksmith from noticing the magic of the kings’s daughter for almost a decade of course, but magic was a bit unpredictable like that.


	2. super short

Another day in Camelot, another man set to burn.

A Seer this time, vermin, all of them.  Even more than the common evil sorcerers.

Seers he had discovered to his ill fortune would set a man up and rejoice in their humiliation. He hated them _so much._ Destiny this, Fate that. It was nonsense, all of it, a symptom of a sickness infecting his people.

This one, bound and battered was thrown down before Uther and didn’t have the sense to keep his mouth shut. He hated that the man’s words would not leave his mind easily. Obviously he must be contaminated by some kind of spell.

He closed his eyes against the memory, wishing once again that he had ordered he be brought gagged before the court.

 

“You will be responsible for Camelot’s ruin you fool! Your pride, and delusions. You read the prophesies, I _know_ you did, and were _so certain_ that the Great King was you, weren’t you. Your ego will destroy everything. Your advisors told you and you _never listened._ So arrogant.” The condemned spat at Uther’s feet.

“Did you never hear of self fulfilling prophesies, you dullard? You slaughtered the dragons to keep them from rising against you. Imprisoned the Great One to keep any from fulfillment, to stop him reaching The Emrys. Betrayed us all, betrayed Igraine. How could you ever have been the One foretold? What presumption! What hate you breed, such darkness and fear. Did you ever listen to Her, or to Nimue? Your suffering is of your own making Uther, and every day it grows greater, the debt that can only be settled by the blood of those lacking magic to heal the balance. Your life and the boy’s will now be controlled by the prophecies you forced, by self fulfilling ones you cannot even begin to comprehend. Everything that follows is done by your own hand, and it will follow you even to the next world. You will _never_ be free because you have chained and damned us all. Even a man as blind as you knows the danger of knowing the future, and I tell you now that the Goddess will not stand for your bloodlust and treachery forever. You abused your power as king, Uther, and tried to play with forces that High Priests avoid. You are not a god, Uther, you are no longer even a _man_. All you are is a mad king, and your selfishness will bring this land crumbling to ashes and dust, as fire and darkness consumes your bloodline.”

 

A knight, seeing the rage writ on the king’s face, features contorted into a mask of revulsion and open hatred, had obligingly kicked the poisonous worm into unconsciousness and dragged him roughly from the room as Uther stonily gave the order for a pyre to be built immediately. It would not come to pass. None of it. He had ensured that in every possible way.  
Hadn’t he?


	3. Chapter 3

Nimue stared at what was shown in her scrying basin aghast. That vile, cheating asshole! After everything, even with him knowing the cost of his choice, to find out that there was never any need in the first place.

Misogynistic pig of a man. 

She glanced over at her apprentice, who looked hesitant and cautious, Nimue snorted, as if  _ she _ was the one they ought to fear.

No. This was something she could not allow to go unanswered. 

When Uther had come to her to plead for aid to conceive an heir of his own bloodline Nimue had agreed, wishing to help her friend.  The nobles had been increasingly cutting and unkind towards Igraine in her failure to produce one to ensure their future, and that was not a life she would wish upon anyone.

That Uther would do so when he had already begotten a child never crossed her mind. Naive, she told herself.

The High Priestess schooled her expression and turned to smile at young Morgause. 

“Come, child. Let me show you something new. It will be beyond you for many years still, but you can learn the steps.” The girl followed behind her eagerly, Nimue’s demonstrations were always fascinating.

 

Uther stood in the council room, empty now of any advisors and a cold wind blew open the windows and doors, a High Priestess he knew far too well striding towards him, fury in every line of her body. Knowing the futility his hand still went to his sword hilt.

“Don’t bother, Uther. You can’t kill what isn’t there.” His arm dropped, he understood. She was appearing to him from a place of safety, the coward.

Nimue raised an eyebrow at his clear thought. What was it with sorcerers and unnatural brows? He should add that to his list of Suspicious Things.

“You lying, repugnant, adulterous scumbag! How dare you? You told me there was no-one. You lied. A woman died, my  _ friend _ died, because you were too selfish and craven to acknowledge a daughter. There was already a Pendragon blood heir before you ever sought me at the Isle. Do you honestly think that refusing to acknowledge her will work, getting Gaius to lie again to everyone.” Something must have shown on his face then, was that a flicker of guilt she saw? “Oh! Oh, this is rich. He doesn’t know, does he? You didn’t tell even him of her existence! This isn’t over Uther, you have gifted your kingdom not with a legitimate heir, but with your bastards, you have promised a full civil war, beyond anything you ever dreamed your genocide would bring.”

Uther wanted to demand an explanation, how could  _ she _ possibly know, but of course she knew, 

magic would always betray him. Nothing good could ever come of it.

Vivian had accepted his bribe to keep the girl-child away from court, and Gorlois his threats of consequences should the truth be told-  _ of course _ the man knew basic maths, no woman had a 13 month pregnancy. The child couldn’t possibly be his, but a king’s bastard was a weapon, and in the end Uther had regrettably had to dispose of his friend.

 

“She will rise against her half-brother, your rejection and hatred guarantee it, and I  _ will _ ensure she learns her heritage Uther, you may be sure of that. I know now how deep this corruption goes Uther, and I must wonder, is she the only one? Or the only one that you know of?” Nimue smirked darkly as she faded away.

“If fear be your choice Uther, may you feel it’s bitter sting as it devours what’s left of your soul. I am not the source, you sick halfwit, fear the future you bought with blood, fear the children you ransomed.” The space before him was empty and nausea overwhelmed him. 

Gaius found him hours later, still in the council room, staring blankly at the fireplace and muttering ’she knows’. He didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was, there were few indeed who could reduce Camelot’s king to this level of incoherence, but he would dearly like to know what it was she knew that had Uther in this state. He sighed. Whenever there was sighting or sound of Nimue, a rise in burnings always followed. He wished simply for  _ that _ that the woman would stay 

away. 

“Come on. It’s late Uther. She isn’t here.

“Is it true Gauis, what she said?”

The physician sighed. “I don’t know Sire, I wasn’t here, Nimue has said many things, and kept many secrets.” Not as many as you. He added silently.

Uther nodded and dismissed Gaius, “It’s late, bring a sleeping draught to my chambers. I have a feeling I may need it tonight.”

 

On the Isle of the blessed, an exhausted but satisfied High Priestess sat thinking, once her apprentice was sleeping quietly. There was a group of druids she needed to contact rather urgently. Uther might now stop brutalising the women in raids as he had been doing, but he had left another with them a son already. She had not lied to the man, unlike some, it was not her way to deceive without absolute necessity. 

 

Two days later Morgana arrived in the court for her first introduction, he would allow her to remain with her mother until he deemed it time to bring her to live in his household. Vivian knew her silence was worth her life, he didn’t doubt she would hold her tongue. 

If his children were to compete he would have to force them to an understanding. Twist the truth just enough. He would thwart the witch this time. She was nothing to him. He was the king, and the old religion would never again be accepted in Camelot, he would make certain that his children understood that, and that no exceptions could ever be made. They would be grateful in the end he knew. They all would.

  
  



	4. Exasperated ghosts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelot has ghosts. Seriously, how many murders have there been there, and only one disturbed druid spirit??

Camelot was haunted.

Well _of course_ it was haunted, so many people had died unjustly within its walls that disturbed spirits were an inevitability, few stayed in the place they had suffered so greatly, but one of those was a grizzled Dragonlord, who remained to look after those who took it into their heads to visit Kilgarrah. Not that the old grump had been particularly sociable _before_ his imprisonment either.

 

It wasn’t a particularly challenging task until one dark haired boy turned up, his parentage obvious to anyone who had known Balinor in his youth, and apparently unaware of that heritage.

The guards on the dragon’s cave were accustomed to it being a particularly slow job, and not paying attention, but he was guilty of using them for entertainment at times, being a spirit had serious disadvantages. Balinor’s heir though, barely distracted them enough to get past safely. It made him wonder if the boy cared about his own survival at all.

So the resident ghost took up encouraging the guards to be easily distracted, passing through them, creating wind without a source. Giving a running commentary on their gambling. No one so low down the chain of command wanted to mention anything to Uther that might suggest they associated with magic, so it simply became a punishment duty for an unspoken yet understood reason. Any guard talking back got assigned duty with the sarcastic ghost.

 

They got so used to the interruptions eventually that a servant could quite easily trip over something and the noise would be written off without any investigation, and objects knocked over were automatically picked up, after all, interfering ghosts couldn’t pick things up even if they blew them over.

As much as he wanted to berate Balinor’s son, the old man knew that Kilgarrah’s lectures and riddles were worse, and usually, he seemed to be coming down for advice on problems that a farming boy could never have been educated about, even if he _was_ Emrys. Plus, despite Merlin’s acceptance and kinship with the  great dragon, he might be a little less genial with ghosts with grudges against Uther, or Gaius. Saving one of his kind was practical, and the only sane thing while a dragon breathed.  Other than Balinor though, only those far from the shores of Albion lived now. There was an emptiness of spirit that had hollowed him out and made him almost grateful for his death, the frustration of remaining between worlds was better than what his surviving kin would continue to feel. They were made for connection, and for unity, Dragonlords may have been tightly knit, but it wasn’t from a sense of superiority or a desire to exclude, it was simply that the ‘normal’ humans could never possibly understand.

They were also frequently regarded with no small amount of fear as most of them were adrenaline junkies. Especially once they tasted the skies. The court had panicked when the first of them wouldn’t burn, but really, when a man played with dragon fire, the flames of a fire were almost tickly. It was the reason that trickery had been required in the first place to kill his people. He hoped that the dark haired kid would survive long enough to inherit that particular ability. Not that anyone really _wanted_ to test whether or not they could walk through the flames, and clothes certainly did not survive. Merlin appeared to have only two shirts, so really couldn’t afford to lose one. Only a generation ago he would have been recognised as the Lord he was by birthright.

Seeing him reduced to such poverty made anger churn low in his gut. At the same time he recognised the wisdom in remaining in a less obvious position in the court. Uther’s paranoia was enough that he may forget that Balinor had ‘died’ without issue should the boy turn up looking too similar to his father. Perhaps he should visit the mad king. If he thought he was seeing dead men it might cause him to disregard the apparent similarity.

It might be fun. He hadn’t had that sort of fun for a while.

Yes. It was about time he took a turn.

He’d left the two shrieking sisters to do night shifts for too long. Time passed differently in this form, but if Balinor’s son was almost an adult it had been too long. Maybe they’d enjoy a swap

for a while. In life one had been an accomplished flirt, which would work just as well for distractions should Merlin need it.

Two weeks later the wandering spirits of Camelot had organised themselves better than in all the years before. The guards decided that it was in their interests to either ignore resident ghosts or agree with them until their shift ended and they could go to the tavern and get very, very drunk. And if occasionally a certain manservant wandered past, well, the ghosts seemed to be on good terms with him, and the dragon hadn’t burned him to a crisp yet, which probably meant that turning him in to Uther would result in angry spirits and dragons.

Which they would still have to guard.

The pithy, sarcastic one was right. Best to just not _notice_ , and concentrate _very_ hard on winning whatever they had bet on in order to forget with the help of plenty of ale.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“You would raise your son in a web of lies, dripping poison just as deadly as mortaeus in his ear each day. You would kill him with it just as surely as with a blade. The blood-soaked boy you would feed to the wolves. Tell me my lord, do you even love him? Do you love the little prince for the half that is _her_ , or do you hate him for it?” The witchfinder bent to remove the cuff, a heated brand at the ready to distract her from any attempt to cast a spell, throat already hoarse from screaming, the sorceress managed to gasp out one last thing to the king before oblivion took her, power rushing outwards, “He will never recognise truth from lies as long as he looks to you.”

It was unfortunate timing for her tormentor to release a burst of power that had been held back for long enough to send a shock of excruciating pain through her and cause her control to falter. It was even more unfortunate that king Uther had elected to not distinguish between witches and mild sorceresses. The rush of magic imbued her words with power, and knocked the guards back, leaving several with broken ribs or out cold.

“Summon the physician.”

Aredian snorted. ‘Physician’ indeed. It was a lie and they all knew it.  The man was a filthy sorcerer, and a coward to boot. _How_ he would love to have a few hours alone with the sly man, and then, when he was finished, he’d watch the traitor burn. He may have deceived the king, but Uther was a fool. No one played _him_ for a fool and lived. He’d make sure of it. All he had to do was wait, and when the man slipped up, Aredian would be there to catch him.

\-------------------------------------

 

Only the years he’d spent training as a physician enabled Gaius to control his stomach as he was assaulted by every foul odour when he was brought into the lower dungeons. He hated it, hated everything it represented, hated that he knew what he would see, and that he could keep his face still as stone now, knowing full well how little it took to cross the fragile line of the bars kept between courtier and condemned. Most of all he hated himself, knowing that he had mastered the ability to stand aside, and yet the other healers had already burned or fled. The only chance any of the victims had, the only relief, depended on his walking away.

This time was certain to be horrific, it was Aredian’s handiwork, and the man was a sadist with no conscience. Unlike Uther he didn’t care about magic, whether his victims had it or not, didn’t care about extracting information, or truth, he _enjoyed_ hurting people.

The magic Gaius had bound tightly inside himself recoiled further as the approached the cells, and he knew why he was there, the torturer had been abusing items of black magic again. Uther stood, staring at the woman in revulsion.

“What happened?”

He knew exactly what had happened.  
“She used magic against the other prisoners and the guards, wake them up. I want to know how she did it.”

Gaius suppressed a sigh, letting it out would be too dangerous. “The cuffs are intended to block magic sire. They cause the user intense pain, and the return when the are undone creates an even more blinding agony, but they are not designed to be manipulated as a torture device. In extreme distress the rush of power could spill over and cause the destruction. The cuffs must remain on, or off to prevent it. Quickly alternating that disrupts things and can cause uncontrolled release or magic.”

The king nodded, distrust showing openly. “And in your opinion, Witchfinder?”

Aredian held Uther’s gaze, “It is a method I have used very effectively in the past. They deserve to suffer for the pain they have caused others. The sorcerers were clearly hiding others and I wanted to know where. I decided the results justified the risks.”

Uther nodded thoughtfully, and surveyed the damage to his dungeon and guards. “You will no longer use it here. Keep the cuffs on. Find a new way to get the information you need.”  He cast a look towards the physician. “Do what you can for the guards. Don’t touch the prisoners.” Gaius swallowed. Some of those ‘prisoners’ had been his friends, and they now looked at him rightly with hatred and disdain.

If Aredian wasn’t watching him he could have slipped them a painkiller or poison, but the man was like a hawk, and ever looking for an excuse to burn him, it wasn’t a risk he could take with the torturer present. For those poor souls in Camelot’s dungeons death would now be a mercy. The screams that echoed from there were as terrible as those from the pyre, they simply continued for longer. There were far too many willingly twisted men, but Aredian made a speciality of keeping people on the cusp of life and death, he had studied anatomy years ago in Camelot, and he had been exiled after being caught abusing that position, practising the skill of harming someone without leaving evident marks. Gaius had expected never to see him again, and knowing all of his crimes, Uther had intentionally summoned him back, calling evil good, and darkness light.

Gaius left the lower dungeons feeling numb, and made it to his chambers before losing the iron grip on his stomach. There must have been a day when his life turned into a living nightmare, a defining moment, and yet it seemed to have occurred steadily, the everyday people becoming used to living in a surreal land where normality had become madness, and madness replaced truth. It sickened Gaius on some levels. The king had a reason, but the people living outside the city, they didn’t, there was a choice, and they were choosing irrational brutality, turning on neighbours. The healers had often been magic users, so there was now hardly any remaining. That should have been a sign to them he thought, and yet it seemed many could easily ignore it.

As happened every time it crossed his mind Gaius reminded himself that that was _exactly_ what his own actions would look like. He looked longingly at the hemlock that rested in his cabinet and wished once again that he could use it himself, but there were others who needed it more, and without him, even the guards, knights, and servants, would lose limbs and lives to infection and false accusations.

No one else was left now to help them, and by now he had _earned_ this punishment, to succumb would be allowing himself to hide from others suffering, and that was not what a true healer did, was it? A healer was always most needed on a battlefield, and for all it’s velvets, and feasts, he knew now, that was exactly what the castle had become, for far too many people. The beauty of it now a cruel joke. How many more must die before his king’s rage was appeased he wondered. When the queen had died, he expected the king’s intense grief, but he could never have foreseen this.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a curse per se, just an idea.

The gruff librarian sighed and gestured over to a chair next to him as Gaius looked at Geoffrey over the large desk. “Yes?”

He avoided the library as often as possible, carefully guarding the books he could and those he needed often in his own chambers, it was one place he just couldn’t avoid the shadows of people long gone, and nausea rolled through him. “The king is considering a betrothal for the young prince, it would seem.”

Geoffrey nodded stiffly, “It would certainly be a strong point in favour of any treaty, a stake in the succession, it could go a long way to ending the war.”

Casting an eye over the documents covering the table Gaius schooled his features, “Isn’t the prince a little _young_ for such a thing?” He looked pointedly at the old genealogist.

“No younger than Odin’s boy and Mithian are for theirs.”

Oh dear. “Who are the candidates the king is considering, if you’ll pardon my asking.” The physician cringed, he had expected longer to consider his choices for this particular dilemma.

Geoffrey snorted, “Almost any girl of appropriate standing, provided the family have no history with magic or fertility problems. There are a ridiculous number of girls he wants me to look deeply into, though so far he seems to favour the young princess Elena and Lady Vivian.”

There was a heavy darkness that seemed to suffocate Gaius, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath, “There must be a way to delay this.”

Finally noting the sombre tone of his friend’s voice Geoffrey strode to the door and bolted it, pulling shut the heavy curtain to muffle the sounds within. “No Gaius.”

“One day he will realise, and we will both stand accused of lying to the king.”

Geoffrey avoided looking at Gaius and handed him a cup of fortifying wine. “Well telling him what he does not wish to hear hasn’t been working out well either, has it. To anyone who knows the old laws it will be clear enough, they know what to expect, and despite his complete rejection of the Old Religion, Uther learned them as well as anyone else.”  
“I doubt that somehow, and if Uther does he is most certainly in denial if he intends to force a betrothal through the council.”

“Gaius, the blood has flowed in our home like rivers. We cannot destroy the fragile hope of the people for a lasting peace.” Gaius looked anguished, burnings were still common.

“A hope that is false and we both know it. Is it not cruel to raise the prince in ignorance?  No matter how much blood Uther spills, the deal only ever traded one life for the potential of another. A dynasty cannot be bought with the years granted a single barren woman. These _documents_ aren’t history yet Geoffrey, they are the lives of little girls.”

“Indeed they are. So help me build a profile of needs so that we can recommend one with the necessary strength, the heart to complement Arther’s, who will neither topple Camelot, nor crumble as dreams of children, family and long loves turn to ashes. The land will not survive another bitter ruler left alone. The king has made the decision to raise the boy in ignorance, and you’ve taken oaths Gaius. You could never explain these consequences without explaining the circumstances of his birth and his mother’s death. The king would declare this element a perversion of _magic_ ,” he whispered the word, “despite the absence of any, and another wave of deaths would follow.”

“You are certain we should be silent on this my friend?” Gaius kept his voice low.

Geoffrey sighed, suddenly feeling very tired, and older than his years. “The end of the bloodline and inevitability of never seeing grandchildren? _Yes I am certain_. If he does not wish to acknowledge it then I have no desire to lose any more friends in yet another witch-hunt, or listen to stupidity reign in council about the malice of high priestesses. Perhaps the king can be encouraged to wait a little longer to arrange a betrothal, perhaps play Gawant and Olaf against each other. It’s a pity there isn’t a daughter to offer in exchange or double bond with.” This was why no one would play chess with the old librarian anymore. He couldn’t simply leave the machinations to others, and yet looked completely harmless.

The physician’s craft had taught him long ago that the worst fatal illnesses or poisons often looked the most innocuous at the outset. The most dangerous were always those that could pass unnoticed and not catch attention, it held true for people.

“Do we not risk history repeating itself if we leave it shrouded in silence? The problem will be equally difficult and significant for the son as the father.”  
“Then I suppose we must inform our successors should we survive to have them, and pray that they are wiser and cannier than we were this time.”   
Gaius snorted, “I don’t intend to train one after what was done to my last apprentice. I’ll try to save as many people as I can until the breath leaves my body, but ‘physician’ is a title the men die for quite literally these days. I won’t willingly do that to another.”

The old librarians eyes softened, “Yes you will. You care too much for your _prince_ to leave him without protection you trust, even if you curse yourself all the while for burdening and risking them in the castle.”

“They can bring someone from another master in then.” he couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from bleeding into his tone.

Geoffrey shook his head, “My dear Gaius, you’d be too stubborn to die, following them everywhere and wanting to check their reasoning and diagnoses. Plus you wouldn’t trust their loyalties. The court will always need someone to heal wounds and illnesses, they wouldn’t realise they need a record keeper until I am gone.” Unable to honestly refute that, Gaius was completely still for a long moment breaking his silence so softly that Geoffrey almost didn’t hear.

“A life for a life. If it had been Uther’s life..”

“But it wasn’t.”

“If it had been though.”

“It wasn’t Gaius. No one can change time, or the laws the world is built upon. If someone could choose, could _control_ whose life was used in the exchange, what would it make them but a god among men?”

Gaius sank into a convenient seat. “Thank you Geoffrey. I know you are right, it just seems that each day brings more darkness, more secrecy. I wonder if, by the time I pass over, there will be any of my soul left to pass on.”

The librarian scowled, he understood, like no-one else could, “They do. The truth is hidden and the lies are taught, this world we live in is wrong, but to preserve all that we can will consume us both.”

 

As negotiations dragged on, Uther was carefully convinced that any betrothal should be saved for a more _critical_ treaty, the prince perhaps dangled like bait in front of potential allies, a ploy that appeared to work.  It was one he would later use shamelessly with another child in his household, one who might have ensured the survival of his bloodline had he ever been able to take responsibility for past sins, but Uther Pendragon had never been one to accept consequences publicly, and Morgana was a living, breathing daily reminder of exactly those sins.

All of his flaws personified in a pretty little package, on the outside the image of her mother.

Just like his son looked at him with Igraine’s eyes, Morgana saw through him and held her head high when she raged. Had two old men known of their king’s infidelity, so many wrongs may have been averted, but it was far too late for that, and the court of Camelot stood already on a foundation of lies.

One more could surely make no difference...


	7. Morgana's dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-short

Morgana lay still, barely breathing. Her dreams troubled her far less frequently now, but occasionally one slipped through, and she always knew when one had been prevented manifesting. It was unsurprising that one should have slipped through tonight of all nights, her attack having been foiled, but something about the confrontation in the crypts tickled uncomfortably in the back of her mind. The words Merlin had used. It mattered. Something about them was significant and she couldn’t identify exactly what.

“You don’t have magic, Merlin. How could you hope to understand?”

“I do understand, believe me. If I had your gifts, I would harness them for good. That’s what magic should be for. That’s why you were born with these powers.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be an outsider. To be ashamed of how you were born, to have to hide who you are. Do you think I deserve to be executed because of who I am?”

“No, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can find another way.”

“There is no other way.”

She was right. She _ knew _ she was right. There was no other way, Morgause had told her that, shown her that. Her dreams showed her scenes of terrible deaths, Camelot’s doom if she let it continue this way. 

The words though. He said he understood. Lies. It must be lies, Merlin was a liar? She shivered, of course he was, he had hidden her magic before and lied about her leaving. How did he do that without being discovered? Ashamed of how he was born, that didn’t make sense, he was just a simple peasant, nothing special unless she counted being defeated in the crypt, and Morgana refused to ever dwell on defeats. Oh, of course. The boy was bastard born, he wasn’t just ashamed, he  _ was _ a walking mark of shame, perhaps he might just have tasted exclusion, hardly the same thing though. Yet he said magic was for good. Did the servant of Arthur, son of Uther, truly believe magic could be good? She wanted to. Didn’t have to be like this? Like what exactly, how could things be different, it didn’t make sense. Too many things. She glared at the bracelet around her risk, it protected her, she needed it desperately, but in moments like this she couldn’t help but question if it was clouding her mind or preventing dreams she needed to See. 

The word that tickled around the edges so terribly was none of these, it was ‘We’. The dream she had blocked was one of so very many, that could have shown her exactly the meaning of that tiny two letter word. The one which would have shown her how completely  _ not _ alone she was, and how honestly he had spoken, for now she curled in on herself a sick feeling that she was missing something important spreading through her and the coldness that so often seemed to surround her now, without Morgause by her side. 


	8. Chapter 8

The little Prince’s nanny rocked him gently in her arms. How could he look so innocent and peaceful when his birth had brought such suffering and pain to her land, when his father had turned into such a monster? She had wanted to run from the citadel when she realised what the man’s intent was, but remained for the prince, if she left, there was no knowing what would happen to him, and there were certainly enough people with even greater reason to seek vengeance on Uther. Many who would be willing to do so by targeting his son. It left her with a dilemma. She couldn’t stay, however rarely she used her magic. Visibility within the royal household meant that they were effectively on a waiting list. There had to be a way to leave him with some protection when she left, whether by intention or by flames.

She was not unaware of the suspicious looks his wet nurse had begun giving her at times and believed her time to escape may be running out. Having looked after the child for the past seven months she was well aware of how poor a father Uther was. He rarely visited the nursery, had wholly unrealistic expectations, no tolerance for a babe’s tears, calling it weakness, recoiled from the way Igraine’s features were evident in their son’s face. If the insanity being called The Purge continued, the only one with a chance of protecting the boy from magical attacks or accidents would be Gaius, and he was having to be careful not to be seen as  _ too involved _ with Arthur, despite being more father-like to him than the King ever had been. She didn’t wish to protect him as an adult, as the consequences of his actions must be left to occur, but she wished him to have some measure as an exposed child. Having considered all of her options the woman had finally concluded that the best option for something that would be to enchant an item that belong to his mother and harness that bond, but most of those had been locked up, many that were deliberately suited to magical use destroyed. The prince had been left but a few. She needed something that was guaranteed not to be destroyed, that as he grew he would wish to keep near him. 

It was late one night as she resettled the boy that the solution struck her, the hanging tapestry giving her the answer, the Queen’s sigil. It would be kept, and of course the prince would keep it. The ring was designed to be worn, so was  _ likely _ to remain either on him or someone he loved, but was far too small for Uther, who wanted never to see reminders of his wife.

Nodding to herself the woman resolved to complete her task before the week was through. The only problem would be getting the required herbs- which was always seen as suspicious now- and of course stealing the Queen’s sigil. Either of which could get her executed, but perhaps that was a risk worth taking, she felt the tiny fingers curl around her own as the prince smiled in his sleep. Rolling her eyes and laying him down in the cradle she settled herself on the small cot next to him, once more wondering what had possessed her to accept the job when the boy was thrust at her before the queens screams had stopped. A lack of choice she thought, and the summary execution of all the other ladies in waiting suspected of being in a position to influence the queen or outcome of the birth, she snorted. Igraine would be ashamed. Really it was a good thing that Uther showed such disinterest in his son, at least until he was old enough to understand the rejection.  She slipped into sleep, waiting for the nightmares that plagued everyone these days to come. It made waking every couple of hours for a poor sleeper a mercy.

 

The next morning she found her way down to Gaius’ chambers, now designated as physician’s quarters. She quietly requested the herbs she needed, ignoring the suspicious look he gave her and the instructions to use it  _ very carefully _ . If he didn’t ask what she was making, and she gave the correct symptoms she needed them for, he could pretend ignorance. Not that any of them could be used for harm in that combination or he wouldn’t have allowed her them. She was too closely observed to go out and source her own in the woods now and he knew it. 

He still respected the Old Religion, even if he had betrayed it’s followers. 

That night she set wards on the nursery and her side room, and settled to her task of weaving a protection spell that would slowly lose effectiveness over the years, it took several hours to complete and left her more drained than she’d ever felt, having not done any major magic for many months. Finally it was done, and with the last of her strength she tidied away any signs of her activities.

  
It was ironic she thought, chained in Camelot’s dungeon two weeks later, that she should have gone unnoticed so long in such proximity to the king and his son to be arrested days after leaving the post, for taking responsibility for  _ someone else’s magic. _ Not even her own. Her laugh was bitter. At least the boy had escaped punishment this time. Two boys saved in two weeks. And for that she was going to die. Surely madness had consumed her home. Years later those same two boys would one day stand against each other, the same woman having bought their lives until they were old enough to make a true choice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did Arthur go from suspicious before Ealdor back to 'Merlin's an idiot, so fast? Why is it that everyone OUTSIDE of Camelot, where they still remember how magic works, because it's only been twenty years when the series begins doesn't notice that questing beast bites are deadly, and forget that Camelot would need a warlock or witch to foil their schemes?

The ‘Rogue’ was an adequate costume for now Regan decided. Appear to be the shallow, overly talkative drunk, and no one will suspect the deep dark secrets locked up tight, or the purposeful nature of one’s journey. The Fool was perceived to be ‘safer’ than the loner, or the quiet traveller. The less intelligent one appeared, the less cunning the watchful would expect you to be, and they would not look for it. Really, he was living on borrowed time anyway, but he was satisfied that he had been of some use.

Raking through his rucksack he found the concealed bag of talismans and checked the number, to be certain none had gone missing, carelessness reduced life expectancy more than anything else. His veiled observer went unnoticed.

Hiding them well, he stuffed the bag under the bed-frame, and grabbed a coin from his belt pouch to use at the bar downstairs for his performance, half a dozen yarns to mind, barely a whit of them true. Later, feigning dragging his drunked arse upstairs he discovered he’d been allocated the other false drunk, presumably to contain the expected rowdiness or mess, inconvenient as both realised the other for what they were, and yet had to carry on the farce or gives themselves away. Two bawdy songs later, badly out of tune and time of course, the inn-keeper banged on their door yelling about keeping the noise down for respectable patrons, at which point the pair decided it was safe to ‘sleep’. Regan desperately wanted to set a concealment charm on his cargo, but there was no way to know which fake-drunk was a magic refugee, and which was a spy or witch hunter. The risk just wasn’t worth it.

Fortunately this one turned out to be harmless, and just as eager to  _ not _ be noticed as his room mate, though is irritated the sorcerer that the other’s early departure necessitated his own delay, so it didn’t appear that they were leaving together. Soon enough he would be close to the border, and there was guaranteed to be a cairn to mark it. On Cenred’s if not in Camelot. He  _ wanted _ to get every road out of Camelot protected, but this one had been the Druids priority when the sheltered him.  _ Why _ wasn’t important to him, and he had seen enough of the torturer’s handiwork to know that it was best not to share anything non-essential now. 

It took him almost until sundown to find the place he was looking for,  but lower lighting was safer for his task anyway. He began to take the top couple of layers off, extremely carefully, until he deemed the talisman would be placed deep enough not to be noticed once it was covered.

Extracting his insignificant looking bag, Regan was horrified to find in the top of it, a folded note, heart pounding he opened it, breaking a blank seal of the cheapest candlewax, expecting to find a note of execution. His heart quailed when he was the symbol it was signed with, wondering if a witch hunter wouldn’t have been safer.

Nameless it simply read “Be more careful. Use this on the road to Essetir. It is stronger.” Underneath was the symbol of the Catha, and the mark of a priest. A single, circular slice of wood was enclosed, with runes he could not read engraved, and stained with what could only be blood. Presumably the blood of the man claiming the authority of a Catha priest. Gods, he could have died and never known, failed in his task.

Hesitating briefly, Regan concluded that the Catha had to be on the same side as the druids regarding protecting magic users, so he did as he was instructed by both, quite certain that the man would have either followed him, or scryed to ensure his directions were followed. 

Placing both tokens in the cairn he very carefully began to rebuild the top couple of layers. Even if it was torn down it was unlikely they would be seen.

The next morning his work would continue, in an effort to hide those with least control.

Regan managed to protect every main road out Camelot, and two minor paths, traversed primarily by magic users,  before being captured by Uther’s men, and promptly scheduled for execution. 

He never made it to the waiting pyre as sometime during the night an oddly familiar man, one he had not seen for many moons broke  _ in _ to the Camelot dungeons silently, quickly dispatching the guard left with him and entering the cell. “You did well in your appointed task.”

The condemned prisoner nodded respectfully, “I have no regrets my Lord, and die with a clean conscience.”

“You know why I am here then.” The voice was disguised, and a hooded cloak sat around him. 

Regan swallowed just once. “You are here, I hope, to give me mercy.”

The man chuckled darkly. “Mercy? Yes, I suppose you could call it that. Uther believes us destroyed, we could not risk him being disabused of the notion, and I believe you earned a reward for protecting Destiny. May you be welcomed at Avalon’s shores.”

“Thank you.” Whispered Regan. He was dead before his body hit the ground, head twisted at an unnatural angle.

At the sixth hour, as the drums began to pound, the guards came to collect the sorcerer for execution and instead found the body of their friend in a large pool of congealing blood, angrily turning to the prisoner who surely must have killed him, there was, inside a still locked cell the body of an accused sorcerer. No one liked to say ‘’convicted sorcerer’ now, there didn’t seem much point in a distinction. If someone called you a witch, you died. Quickly.

 

Camelot was a funny place. Sometimes just going through it’s gates could change what a person remembered. Especially if any of those memories might arouse a certain… suspicion… about a person. Or what exactly might have been  _ meant _ by ‘only magic can defeat magic’.

 

In later years, King Uther would stop travelling by common road and making visits to allied courts, something very strange happened on the journeys. Not only to him he knew, for there were several nobles who reached their own conclusions and simply refused to cross the borders any more. If one took certain routes, it suddenly became very difficult to accurately recall parts of the journey, or even staying in some places at all. Memories would seem..patchy...incomplete. As though tiny details had been rewritten, and perceived as what was  _ expected _ by different parties.

Magic was  _ all _ evil, obviously, but Uther disliked the cunning kind most of all. There was something just  _ wrong _ about changing what someone saw, or believed.

 

He ignored the whisper of conscience of ' _ Gorlois’ Wife.' _

Uther and his conscience had not been on speaking terms for a very long time.


	10. Burning

Arthur turned away, scowling, and strode from the balcony, grim faced. Another dawn, yet another execution. He’d never understand why his father so often opted for the method of burning alive, it was an unnecessarily cruel method of execution and had never stopped turning his stomach since he’d first been made to watch as a child. He let the heavy doors swing closed behind him and hoped they would help muffle the poor girl’s piercing screams. It worked briefly, until they began to increase in intensity again, growing clearer as he stalked towards his chambers, but there was a difference in timbre. Something was wrong, very wrong.  That was definitely a different voice, though the agony was undisguised. His hand automatically went to his sword hilt as he realised the tortured sound was emanating from  _ his _ chambers. He stilled behind the door as he realised that he recognised the voice, that was  _ Merlin’s _ voice, how dare anyone hurt  _ his _ Merlin? Why? Arthur growled and opened the door.

He was wholly unprepared for the scene that confronted him. There were no assailants, no weapons. No one was visibly hurting him at all, yet there he lay, in the middle of the room, back arching, and every muscle tensed. There was blood trickling from his temple.  Gasping in horror Arthur slammed the door behind him, hoping no one else would investigate, and crossed the floor swiftly, grabbing a pillow from his bed. He knelt down beside his servant, stuffing the pillow under his head and stroked sweat soaked hair back from his face. Arthur didn’t know whether Merlin was conscious or not but he seemed not to recognise anything, the desperation in his screaming seemed to ease a little though. He began mumbling in between, gasping for breath and muttering something about druids and not knowing, and sorry. He opened his eyes just long enough for Arthur to see the anguish, “She's in my mind. Burning with them.” he gasped, before his eyes rolled backwards and he went into a convulsion. Arthur held him, feeling utterly helpless. He couldn’t move Merlin, nor leave him alone, and calling for help right now would be risky even if there  _ was  _ anyone. When Merlin stilled, what seemed like hours later his eyes flew open and Arthur could see the vivid gold whirling in them, every candle in the room lit, fire sprung up in the hearth, and the shelves rattled. A chilling scream tore from his already raw throat and suddenly it was over. The room stopped shaking, the candles went out, and Merlin’s body went completely limp in Arthur's arms. The Prince was shaken to the core by what he had witnessed. He didn't want to think about what Merlin had said, or the golden eyes, or...Well, any of it. When he was sure that it was over Arthur stood, lifting his servant and cradling him like a child or a maiden, and headed for Gaius quarters as fast as he safely could, avoiding all common stairwells. He didn't bother knocking, it was Merlin’s home anyway. Yelling for the physician he took Merlin to his own bed rather than the main room. He was paler than Arthur  had ever seen him, and the boy was ghostlike even on a good day. He covered Merlin with the blanket. Inadequate, he thought, resolving to replace what appeared to him to be little more than a threadbare rag. He pushed the boy’s magic to the back of his mind as it tried to surface.

“Hold on Merlin, not long,  he'll get here soon.” At least Arthur hoped he would. The man seemed to stir, curling in on himself and groaning, a sound which became a sob. Arthur stared awkwardly, he could deal with pain, but emotions were different, and he had no idea how to soothe someone who was crying. No one else was present though so he  _ had  _ to do  _ something.  _ Arthur moved so that he was on Merlin’s other side and in his line of sight. He placed a hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. “It's okay. You're safe now, in your own bed. I didn't see anything  _ unusual,  _ but am assigning you a day off to recover. You were taken ill unexpectedly and I am sure will need quarantined.” Arthur spoke gently to his manservant, willing him to understand, and as the bloodshot, deep blue eyes opened and fixed on his own, the Prince knew that he had. He nodded stiffly. “Thank you Sire. I was...I was unprepared today. It won't happen again.” There was a brokenness to his whisper that betrayed the lie, and Arthur's heart constricted. He didn't tell Merlin to sleep. He knew that terror could follow a man into his dreams and be its own torture. Instead he sat silently with his manservant and waited for Gaius’ return. At some point Merlin must have given in to sleep, because when he turned to say goodbye Arthur found that his breathing had settled into a gentle rhythm and though his face was tear streaked and lips swollen from bites, his eyes were closed. Arthur left Merlin and almost closed his door, grabbing Gaius. He studied the court physician’s guarded expression intently. How much did Gaius know, was he too close to Uther to trust or did he know about his ward? He had to risk it, Merlin needed care. He let go and schooled his own features. “Gaius, Merlin was taken ill in my chambers earlier and is relieved of duty until you clear him for work. He was  _ extremely  _ distressed and suffered a seizure before the worst was over, I brought him here to recover and you will find him asleep on his cot.” He paused, lowering his voice “Gaius, I don't ever want to see him in this city for another burning again. Is that understood? I don't care how you get him out or what you tell me, just give him as much distance as possible. And if anything _ odd  _ happens with  _ My  _ manservant you come to  _ me _ . Not Uther. Ever.” The Prince glared at the old man with all the arrogance and authority he could muster, jaw set and eyes burning into him. Apparently Merlin’s guardian knew something as he bowed low and looked both relieved and more anxious than Arthur might have expected. “Of course Sire. Thank you for your care of him.” Arthur knew he meant more than just sitting with him today and nodded, satisfied. “If Merlin asks when he wakes I am surly about him leaving me with boring George, and will be  impatiently waiting for him to finish my half washed floor.” Watching as the Prince disappeared, not quite slamming the door behind him, Gaius pondered his response. He wouldn't, couldn't ask what had really happened, though he had a fair idea. Whatever he had thought the Prince might have reacted with this wasn't it. Apparently Merlin had found an ally in Arthur, whether or not he knew it yet. 

If Arthur was harder on the Knights over the next few days they put it down to irritation and his manservant being ill  _ again.  _ Not noticing that the only two who barely limped conscious off the field were the pair to have delivered another rogue druid girl to the King three days past.  

The next time someone was burned at the stake Leon was careful not to comment on Prince Arthur's decision to go on an extended hunting trip with only his manservant the night before. Making it very carefully  _ not _ his business, as he had done with every other anomaly since Merlin first drank poison for Camelot’s Prince.


	11. Chapter 11

Uther pendragon might be a brutal tyrant with a stone cold heart, but he wasn't stupid.

Long before his festering resentment of those with magical powers had turned into active hatred he had encouraged a rivalry between the sorcerers who claimed allegiance to him, similar to that between knights. It helped him to gauge their strengths and weaknesses in battle, and their temperament under pressure. He could observe their fancy tricks in duels, and what would work in a pitch battle, decide _where_ to place them in his defence or offensives, and which pairings were most dangerous.

He may not _Have_ Magic, but he could certainly _wield_ it.

So many leaders failed to understand the value of knowing how to wield _People…_ and seeing their fickleness. He knew when his Queen died by magic what his course was. There were many who even agreed with sentencing the Court Sorceress to death. Nimue understood the old laws, and his law. It was doubtful she wished to kill _Igraine,_ so Uther felt justified in assuming it was intended to kill _him_ and usurp control with the boy-king. Treason then even if the Queen had lived.

Uther knew that killing _her_ would never be enough. She had acolytes. Another would rise in her place, and another.

He enacted the ban on _practising_ magic first, but he needed to be sure it would be enforced.  Magic had been commonplace, possessed by many people and with no reason to hide it, their identities were well known. All those that had practiced it were made to swear on the old religion to never again use magic, on pain of execution, that he decided mere days later that was not secure enough as they all had magical contacts outside his borders- thus his control- led to a mass burning not seen since the days of Cornelius Sigan. It came too late for him to contain Nimue, who had already escaped to the Isle of the Blessed. Perhaps she had known him better than he knew himself, or at least his strategy.

One man's oath was different.

Gaius was the closest thing to a good sorcerer that Uther knew, and had been Nimue’s main rival in court. Not for raw power, for she easily surpassed any others in that, but in knowledge, and skill.

The ex-sorcerer could be dangerous.  He knew how the Prince was born. He knew that the Queen was barren. He knew exactly how Uther had conquered Camelot; and Uther pendragon ensured that the man knew _nothing_ of the king’s vision for a world without magic.

Gaius’ oath by the old religion was different, it bound him not to cease practising magic, on pain of death, but instead to silence with the same severity. Uther was well aware that magic was only defeated by other magic. He did not want to be helpless to outside forces, he wanted to make sure he had complete _control_ over the magic that was inescapable for now...it was a temporary situation after all. It was unfortunate he'd eventually have to kill Gaius, but he would save him for the last. When his vision was complete.

Gaius reactions were quite useful for determining who might pose a threat really, and he and Nimue had something of a history. Uther had wanted to be certain that the pair would not unite to pose a threat to him so had fostered ill-feeling and encouraged division between them. Gaius was never particularly keen to lead, being more of a scholar, but he was capable enough in a battle situation to be a consideration, and had some influence among the nobility and magical community then, but Nimue was a leader to the bone. With the support of the priestesses, and Gaius associates at her back, Uther could not hope to win.

 

A short time later he tightened the laws further to include possession of any magical artefacts or items that may be used in rituals, claiming that the executions had been insufficient to protect his people, citing known curses. No books, plants, charms, or anything esoteric.

He needed to ensure that the changes lasted and were not just superficial.

The chain of learning had to be severed.

It was a ‘hard’ stance to take, but the people accepted it surprisingly quickly, even using the law on more than one occasion to frame someone they could not prove the guilt of for another crime. Women especially.

He was so fed up of listening to it eventually that he implemented his further reforms sooner than intended. Now you didn't have to practise magic to die, only be seen proven a sympathiser.

It was a tidy solution for malicious accusations and saved him listening to whiny peasants with too much time on their hands.

The change proved effective, as he issued licenses to actively hunt witches for payment, the general peasants falling under suspicion if they made serial reports, no reward was given for that, survival of meeting king Uther was plenty after all.

He didn’t care about the _numbers_ , carried no guilt for his chosen mission, it wasn’t as though he was burning _people_ after all, only sorcerers and unnatural abominations, you just had to organise more firewood for bigger groups.


	12. Chapter 12

The problem with almanacs, thought Merlin, was that they never came with the warnings written _before_ the actual spell.

Honestly, what was the point in adding at the end of a page lines like

‘Never attempt to perform this naked’, or

‘Should not be attempted on an empty stomach’,

‘Extremely potent, lasts up to three days.’

‘Only use in direst need.’

‘Never consume alcohol before attempting magic.’

‘May have side effect of glowing skin.’

These were the sorts of warnings that should be in big, bold letters written at the _top_ of the page, not scrawled hastily and with shame in the bottom corner, he made sure that all of _his_ complications went at the _top_.

This one would have to wait, as without opposable thumbs, holding a quill was going to be extremely difficult, and having accidentally turned himself into a cat, focusing and thinking as a _human_ was extremely difficult. Merlin had endured a great deal of humiliation over the last year but none of his spell-related catastrophes had been quite so literal, and he could just imagine Gaius’s upcoming lecture about being irresponsible enough to accidentally perform shapeshifting magic while just _slightly_ intoxicated. The dragon would laugh himself sick if he saw Merlin in this state, and he just _knew_ he was going to have to visit, as there was no way to _talk_ to Gaius to explain. Hopefully the whole ‘sides of the coin’ shit would be important enough to help him turn back. His cat-eyes weren’t allowing him to read the magic book the same way as when he was human either, so that was no use.

He was late for work again. Maybe Arthur would have a brighter day, it did happen occasionally, and recognise him. It was worth a try at least, and would keep him out from underfoot of Gaius.

His co-ordination was better in cat form he realised as he raced up the stairs, though the way spiders and candles flickering triggered some mad instinct in him to _chase, catch, consume_ was a little unsettling.

When he arrived at Arthurs door he was horrified to realise that when he left the night before he had left it unlocked, maybe he’d had more wine than he thought? It solved the problem of opposable thumbs though as he was able to squeeze through the smallest of cracks into the Prince’s room. Unfortunately the same was not true of the heavy drapes, No one could sleep with those open, and in cat form he’d never be able to feed Arthur a stupid line about _how_ those magically opened without magic.

Nothing for it he realised, he’d have to just embrace the cat method.

The sigh sounded like a hiss, making him wonder about purring, or meowing.

In the end he settled on leaping onto the Prince’s bed and prancing all over it, which was ineffective, he couldn’t bring himself to lick Arthur’s hands, and knew the sword calluses were so thick that most of it had very little feeling left for light things anyway. Trying to remember what the kitchen maids had said about their mousers he decided there was nothing for it. He scrambled onto Arthur’s chest and began to paw at and knead it, adding claws for effect, seeing it start to work he butted at the prince’s face, licking his nose, gods humans were irritating- wait, no, _he_ was a human damn it. He just needed help to turn back. “Mer _l_ _in_ ,” the still sleepy blonde grumbled as he opened his eyes to blue ones staring expectantly at him. If asked Arthur would forever deny shrieking, and Merlin would never believe it. Because otherwise, it would have to be called screaming like a girl.

“ _Merlin!!”_ Good, he recognised the slightly scruffy looking black fur and blue eyes in feline form. “Merlin! Why is there a cat in my room? Did you...did you get a bloody _cat_ and let it into _my room?!”_

Ah. Maybe not then, as the outraged prince looked around rather frantically for his manservant, who apparently was _not here_ while an unknown, possibly sorcerous cat _was_. Oh gods, he’d have to hide it from the knights, Leon had been talking about needing a cat to hunt down the rodents plaguing the knights wing. Arthur was certain it was an excuse. Merlin had turned him soft. Soft and fluffy, and in favour of soft fluffy things, especially scruffy looking, sad-eyed ones.

“Oh fine, you can come with me while I search for the skiving idiot. Search for a servant I ask you, they are supposed to _do_ work not _make it._ ”

Arthur dressed himself quickly, prompting an involuntary hiss from cat-Merlin. “Who are _you_ glaring at, furball?”

Cat-Merlin saw the rat easily, and was tempted to kill it, but _just_ annoyed enough at the royal prat to restrain himself and hope it got into something Arthur _liked_ today.

“Well, you can come, or I can shut you in, what’s it to be furball?”

Freedom, thought Merlin, always freedom. Unsurprisingly, when they got to his quarters Merlin was _not_ there, or in bed, when Arthur stormed up to yell at him, determinedly looking away from the open magic book on the bed that Merlin in his cat form had been unable to hide. Stupid, idiot sorcerer, oh he was going to pay for this attempt at being arrested. Arthur didn’t even have to exaggerate the anger as he shoved the clothes discarded on the floor on top of it stroppily.

“What on earth has he done _this time_ to avoid work.” He muttered, and a reply of “Nothing you arrogant prat.” was lost in translation, but if a cat could have an attitude problem thought Arthur… He turned around slowly and looked at the creature as it stretched and flicked it’s ridiculous ears. “Nooo, oh for god’s sake Merlin, what did you- no, you know what, I don’t want to know, ever, you are sooo going to pay for this if you turn up as a human again.” He glared at the black cat who had apparently replaced his manservant for now. “I have- Forget it, I’m going to train, if you can understand we’ll deal with this… whatever this is later, and if you are _very_ lucky my father will never know members of my household are turning into animals without warning. If you stay stuck this way, I’m giving you to the knights as a mouser, let that spur you to a quick solution.”

He stormed out of the room. Loudly.

Training was violent as usual, with more yelling than was expected, but Arthur was always unreasonable when Merlin went missing so none of them complained. Everyone knew that mentioning how Merlin affected Arthur’s mood was an unwise decision.

At least outside of the knights quarters.

Without the Merlin- buffer no-one mentioned the cat stalking the Prince either. Very little about predators slipped past the Prince unless it involved magic, so there must be a reason. Leon almost asked if it was available, knowing Arthur was a hunting- dog person, but figured it would be better to wait for the Merlin sulk to be over if he wanted a favourable answer.

Morgana realised what had happened when she saw the creature being called an idiot as it wove in and out of Arthur’s legs, almost tripping the usual graceful prince of Camelot.

Instincts were really very hard to resist.

Mercifully she said nothing at the evening meal, where Arthur was forced to endure boring George, knowing he’d need him for the night, that was probably enough to amuse his twisted sister, she knew how he despised being attended by boring George, however much he might vaunt his skill over Merlin’s.

Aware that Uther would _not_ be understanding of a stray cat at dinner, Arthur finally got rid of his infuriating not-a-manservant, and Merlin got rid of his not-being-helpful master. There was nothing for it, he’d have to visit the dragon and _hope_ they could communicate.

Kilgarrah lasted all of ten seconds as a woeful looking black cat strolled into the cave before his booming laughter filled the cave, and didn’t stop for fully five minutes. “Oh my, what _have_ you done this time young warlock? I assume it wasn’t intentional, and too obscure to be an attack. The cat in him growled. The human sighed, this was _exactly_ why he was loathe to come down in the first place. _“Fine, laugh, I deserve it, but_ please, please _help me turn back. I can’t help_ anyone _like this. You, or Albion, or my stupid destiny upstairs, and I_ really _don’t want to eat any more spiders or moths, they are just- ew.”_ The dragon laughed harder. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, it should wear off in the next day or so without any interference, but _thank you_ for showing me this, I had been wondering what had happened.” Merlin dropped his head to his paws and lay down with a forlorn mieow. “Oh, it’s not so bad. After all, you could have been a rat.”

Merlin growled, but the dragon was right. Arthur would _not_ have tolerated being woken by a black rat.

He left the cave relieved but wishing the dragon had more precision in his assurance it wouldn’t last.

Cat-Merlin snuck in past George and curled up in front of the fire. The efficient manservant was horrified to see it and immediately went to shoo it away, Arthur having to smother his own amusement when cat-merlin reacted badly, arching his back and hissing at the man doing _his_ job, oh he was ready to scratch the dull servant used to punish him.

“Ahm, George, let the furball stay, who knows, he might even _finally_ catch the rat that’s been getting in here.” Merlin-cat growled, “Oh shut up, idiot.”

George startled and looked closer at the cat, Arthur only ever said _that_ to Merlin. Was it possible, he wondered, before cutting off that line of thought, if it was magic he did _not_ want to know. Or see. Or suspect. Or hear guttural muttering from any particular direction. Nope. Not him. He knew he wasn’t Arthur’s manservant, only a place-holder, given how many times visitors had tried to kill Merlin he was alright with that. It was probably safer not to be so close to a king, even if the pay was a little better.

“Goodnight Sire.” George bowed and left, silently shaking his head in wonder.

Merlin purred. “Yes, he’s gone, _now_ will you stop that stupid posturing and either go to sleep there or here, there’s nothing on your scrawny bones as a man, let alone like, well I’d say cat but really, you are a shameful example to their kind.” Merlin meowed quietly and silently padded over to the bed, jumping up and curling into a ball next to his exasperated master. When he woke just before dawn it was due to the extreme cold as the insulating fur had disappeared leaving him human, naked, in the prince of Camelot’s bed. His flailing at the realisation disturbed Arthur just enough to wake him, and opening his eyes long before he should be required to

Arthur found a stark naked manservant staring in horror at him, rather than shrieking this time he managed to simply roll his eyes and shove the idiot out of his bed. “Go on then, take a nightshirt and go fix whatever it is you need to fix, and make sure you bring me breakfast on time, today you are going to be _very, very busy._ If you ever do it again I _swear_ I’ll give you to Leon for whatever purposes he has planned for you.”

Merlin didn’t waste time, scrambling to his feet to find clothes, any clothes in the chest. It’s not like they hadn’t seen everything before on quests and such, but it was _really cold_ and Merlin’s mind was still a little addled from switching back to human quite suddenly.

He was distracted enough as he dashed from the room that he didn’t see the maids on his way, or notice that they definitely _did_ see him, rushing half-naked from the Prince’s bed-chambers not long before he was due to begin work. A fact that would come back to haunt them both later, when Arthur would lament his sleep fogged choices, and insult gossips extensively.

In his haste Merlin managed to knock over a chair as he entered the physicians quarters. Gaius, accustomed to waking at very little prompting due to years as a physician, came out of his room, and seeing Merlin glowered. “I’d ask where you’ve been, but it appears quite evident. Should I ask about the Prince’s rumoured new attachment to ‘furball’?”

Merlin shook his head, running fingers through his hair, “Oh gods, please, please don’t. Just know that my lesson has been thoroughly learned on this point. I’ll never do it again.”

“I very much doubt that. You can choose between the extended lecture when I’ve slept a little more, or cleaning the leech tank.”

Merlin considered for a minute before groaning, “Ugh, leech tank this time. At least they can’t laugh at me.”

“No. Oh well, good luck today Merlin, I think you’re going to need it.” He was almost sure the old man smirked as he went back into his bedchamber. Merlin washed his face and slumped back on the bed, searching for the book and ink quill, and scribbling a quick note at the _top_ of the page:

“Effects last 24 hours. Warning. Clothes do not transform. Lack of grip inconvenient. Use with extreme care.”


	13. Chapter 13

Arthur stared at the red wine in his goblet and hurled it in frustration into the hearth.

He'd been pacing for over an hour now and was no closer to an answer, the emotions of the last few days leaving him both exhausted and completely unable to sleep.

The patrol had, for the most part, been an extremely boring one, not even any bandits, until the last day, Merlin had a  _funny feeling_ , Arthur of course had laughed at him for being a wuss, before raising his awareness because his servant might as well have said 'something is going to attack us'. He'd managed to kill the beast, but not before it managed to scratch Merlin. The poison had spread fast, too fast for them to stop, and by the time they reached Camelot his Merlin was unconscious. Nothing Gaius had done had been able to slow the poison ravaging his body, and the king had stormed into the physicians chambers in a rage when he realised why his son was absent. He was entirely too attached to the serving boy. Arthur had resigned himself to pacifying his father in order to distract him from directing that anger towards Merlin when he awoke,  _i_ _f_  he awoke, meaning he had left for the shortest possible time it took to eat with his Father, and attend a council meeting.  
Returning afterwards to Merlin's bedside as soon as he wouldn't be accused of neglecting his duties again; then finally late last night the stupid idiot had taken his last breath. Only it wasn't his  _last_ , discounting the fact that it very definitely  _was._ Arthur had broken then in a way he hadn't done since the first time he killed a man, even crying over his friend's body. He knew what death looked like, what the death rattle  _sounded_  like, and Merlin had lain still for a good twenty minutes.

When he was able to tear his eyes away he'd seen that Gaius looked almost as bad as Merlin had. His manservant- his  _friend_  had  _died_ , that much Arthur was sure of. What he didn't understand was what happened next.

Arthur had been frozen numb as he sat by the bed. He hadn't really given thought to a time when Merlin might not be there. 'Without Merlin' was a concept his mind rejected as instinctively as openly crying in front of Uther, or declaring his undying love for Morgana by terrible sonnets. There had been no expectation of Merlin ever  _not_  being at his side, permeating his life the same way he had done since he became Arthur's, almost as though the prince had unconsciously assumed that he would always be present in such a personal capacity.

He didn't know himself exactly why he hadn't left when Merlin stopped breathing, why he hadn't left the man's guardian with the body. Really he should have, if not because of the medical requirements, because they man lying dead was like a son to the court physician. The closest thing to family he had ever had, but he couldn't move, it would mean admitting everything  _Merlin_ was over, he was just  _gone_.  
Then as he watched, Merlin's heart had begun to beat again, slowly at first but steady, in a stable rhythm. Gaius, lost in his own grief, didn't notice it until Merlin took a deep breath, and another, colour returning to him painfully slowly, but returning nonetheless to a man who should be long beyond skin colour and circulation being a concern.

The old man had been unable to mask his shock, and his relief, but he showed no doubt about it truly being the real Merlin, rather than a trick, which was a problem in itself.

He's tried to convince the prince that Merlin hadn't  _actually_  died, must have been only deeply unconscious, or suffering from a decelerated heart-rate. They both knew he hadn't believed that crap, a battle hardened warrior, and a physician with decades of experience recognised death when they saw it, and they had seen it in  _Merlin_.

Now Arthur knew extremely little about magic, but he  _did_  know that normal men did not rise from the dead without its influence, and until today Camelot's prince had had his manservant down as pretty ordinary; weird certainly, but not  _immortal_. Judging by Gaius open weeping, neither had he expected a return of his ward from this, which made it so much harder. How could he separate them now? Even mercifully? If exile was mercy.

He wished that tonight he could be just another knight, not the one responsible for making such choices, because his gut told him to trust Merlin, and his  _head_  told him something suspicious and potentially sinister was at work. He doubted he'd find the answer pacing alone in his chambers either way.

Ignoring the fact he was not fully dressed any more, Arthur accepted that he was not going to get the clarity he needed without speaking to the ex-corpse of his friend, and the possibly traitorous physician who loved him like a son. No-one stopped or questioned him, initially he assumed, because of his expression, and as he neared the tower rooms, because they were accustomed to seeing a sulky prince storming towards Merlin.

His manservant had briefly roused, groaning and turning over, apparently his revival hadn't come with the elimination of pain. Prince Arthur paused at the door, raising his hand to knock and stopping himself as he heard low voices. "I'm sorry Gaius for not telling you, I hoped I was wrong, that I just hadn't been as badly injured as I thought. Then there were too many cases to explain, and I started to wonder if… I wanted it not to be true. I guess, if no one else  _saw_  it, maybe I could just have been imagining it."

There was something he couldn't hear. "My dear boy, I'm so sorry I didn't see it before. The word 'Emrys', it holds that meaning, and I hadn't thought it was literal, you always had so many accidents, things I had to treat and patch up." Arthur hadn't known that, and felt a twinge of shame for overlooking the injuries of a man who was under his command, knight or not, he bore a responsibility to them.

"I'm gone longer if there are problems. Blood loss takes longest to  _recover_  from."

"How many times Merlin?" There was the sound of fabric shifting. Maybe blankets? He couldn't be up to walking around yet surely.

The reply was almost too low to hear, "Too many Gaius. I think- I mean, I got careless for a bit, I wanted to know the truth, needed to find out, and I didn't want to ask because there was only one person that I  _could_  ask and we- well we weren't exactly on friendly terms back then."  
"You could have spoken to  _me_  Merlin."

A harsh chuckle, "You wouldn't have known, or had answers, and you can't  _change it_. The only way to test it would be the way I used anyway. Don't you dare start treating me differently though Gaius. Nothing is different, you just saw me  _sooner_ this time. I'm exactly the same. Maybe a new scar from the day."  
Sadness leaked from his mentor's voice as he answered, "You have far too many of those already my boy. Promise me you'll be more careful."

Silence.

He could almost  _see_  Merlin running a hand through his hair, "It's a bit late for that from what you said. Do you think he'll tell Uther?"

The resignation in that question made some part of Arthur shiver, "I don't know, Merlin. He will try to do what he believes is right."

"Great, that's  _very reassuring."_ Sarcasm. Good, thought Arthur, if he was being sarcastic then Merlin couldn't be too badly damaged. Reserved Merlin was always a bad sign. Polite Merlin was worse.

"Fine, the king hasn't charged in here and hauled you in shackles from your bed so I think it's safe to say he's at least  _considering_  his course rather than reacting without thought. What that will lead him to I cannot say."  
There was a shuddering gasp, sob maybe? That couldn't be right, Merlin didn't  _sob_ , didn't  _break._

"I didn't want it to be like this, I didn't want to scare him, or be some kind of- of  _freak_. No-one else has to live like this Gaius, die, and then come back and  _keep_  living, I don't even have a choice in  _that_. How can it be fair that destiny even gets to decide when I'm allowed to fucking  _die."_

Arthur was frozen in shock, it sounded as if his manservant- his  _Merlin_   _wanted_  to die, or had at least  _tried_  to before.

It was the gut wrenching horror of that thought, that not only had Merlin  _felt_  that, but had clearly  _acted_  to cause harm to himself that forced him to realise that it didn't matter whether it was magic that gave Merlin back to him. He wouldn't be handing Merlin in to Uther, it wasn't a full answer, or satisfactory, but it was a start, and he could at least rest now, having reached the conclusion that he was not going to lose his friend, either to illness or execution.

Illegal or not - and it definitely  _was_  illegal- he was going to hide this anomaly, lie to anyone who asked. Gaius did have a history of last minute solutions that ought to be impossible; to question this time would call into question too many others- other occasions that  _were_  beginning to niggle and bother him, but now was not the time. Those questions could wait for tomorrow, when he had slept, and could think further than the decision to not expose his manservant, though from what he had overheard, there was no guarantee executing Merlin would work even if the very thought didn't make him feel ill.

He needed someone to speak to about it, but his usual options were Uther, who was out of the question, Merlin, who was the problem posed in the first place, and until recently Morgana, but he already knew her views on magic and there had been an obvious tension between her and his manservant for some time now. It would have to be done extremely carefully, but perhaps Leon might be able to offer some wisdom and insight, if he could enquire carefully and vaguely enough. The risks needed to be evaluated, and he intended to grill Merlin for answers when he was less ghostly looking. Ultimately the decisions would always rest on his shoulders, he supposed this was just one way of him beginning to take on a greater responsibility for those choices. Merlin couldn't help this time, but Arthur had no intention of casting him away for this  _condition_ , and he was likely to need someone in future to help cover for him, in case of witnessed wounds or inexplicable recovery. Arthur was aware that Leon considered the man a younger brother, and knew precisely how different the prince was now to a few years ago, and how much was down to Merlin's presence. Most of the guard would be loyal to the king, with his habit of executing anyone for the most minor infractions, but Leon, and some of the knights were loyal to  _Arthur_  above all others. Faced with such a problem, the prince was also forced to realise how few trusted people there were around him suitable or sensible to take on as his future advisors or councillors. That would require addressing.

Realising his feet had automatically carried him back to his chambers he entered and poured himself a generous cup of wine, sure this time of its use as an effective relaxant, the urge to destroy and burn things having subsided for now. Downing it and slamming the goblet down he didn't feel the need to throw the empty vessel this time, struck by the thought he'd have to stop throwing things at Merlin, since clearly the stupid idiot wasn't informing him of serious injuries despite whining about the tiniest cuts. Was that part of a cover too, he wondered. He wanted to reject it, but there were too many puzzles and the combination of strong wine and lack of sleep were finally beginning to take effect properly.

Falling into bed Arthur  _hoped_  for once to see boring George wake him, because if he didn't, it would confirm that Merlin had come in and worked before after enduring the same thing, in pain and seriously injured, and Arthur hadn't ever suspected. How often had he been hiding, and what scars was Gaius talking about?  
If he asked, would  _Merlin_  tell him, if he wouldn't, Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to hear it from anyone else. It would mean he'd told  _them_  first, and then Arthur might have to kill them. He didn't want to upset his Merlin, and he no longer had any doubt that Merlin  _was his_ , immortal or not. He'd figure it out in the morning, then work out exactly how he was going to  _not_  tell Uther the truth, as many times as he had to.


	14. Chapter 14

Oh my _gods_ , not again. The king hears a whisper of a rumour about a magical artefact and decides to send _us_ out to ‘retrieve’ it. This should be included in the training _before_ we swear fealty. We’re knights, completely _unmagical_ knights, with no sensitivity to magical traps.

You’d think he’d at least make sure it was real before sending people after something!

OK. So it seems that this time Gaius has confirmed the existence of an item matching the description. I honestly don’t know whether that is reassuring, or a reason to stage my own death while there’s still a chance of it being a _fake_ death.

One way or another every knight is on borrowed time, if we are reluctant to go on these stupid quests for things we don’t understand the purpose of, he’ll have us executed as magic-sympathisers, and if we aren’t picked off by bandits or a sorceress with a personal feud, then the magical artefact is either surrounded by monsters, or protected by enchantments. Last week Sirs Tristan and Boden returned covered in painful, unsightly boils, and were _happy_. The week before Sir Adrian returned in far greater distress after obtaining a sacred flute, without unsightly boils and also without his- ahem- _personal_ _flute._ His Lady is reportedly very displeased.

Even the king winced hearing that one, he blames magic of course. Oops, _evil_ magic I mean, Sir Adrian is trying to decide whether it is more dangerous to continue daily with his wife’s wrath, or steal the sacred flute to return it and risk Uther’s pyres. Having met the Lady Adrian I suggested the pyres might be a gentler way to go than at his wife’s frustrated hands.

I don’t know how he thinks that our vaults are _safer_ to keep them in than the hidden places that require actual _quests_ to collect them, I mean, one was guarded by a _kraken_ , an honest to gods _kraken_. That seemed to him far more of a deterrent than city walls. The jewel was, of course, protected by another curse. Only one knight survived _that_ quest, but he seems quite relieved to be offered the chance to retire with only a missing sword arm; a kindly old crone- no _of course_ she wasn’t a sorceress, don’t be ridiculous- living in a nearby hovel prevented him from bleeding out and salvaged what she could.

I don’t mind the mildly irritating ones, I mean, the month of the itchy feet when we got the dancing shoes of a particular sorceress only really made us slightly short tempered (don’t question the king’s life choices, it’s bad for your health).

That time with the magic mirror though, bloody hell, the women of Camelot were all crazy! I considered smashing it myself, but somehow I doubt that the consequences for that would be as kind as seven years bad luck. I think one of the guards might have _lost_ it as the effects have dimmed somewhat. Whoever it is has my undying gratitude. It’s probably not a good idea to suggest undying anything around here, that sounds like a curse just waiting to happen.

I miss things making sense.

 

So it seems that there may be a genuine reason this time that preventing Nimue and her cohort from harnessing this particular one is of significance.

Gaius spoke of a crystal, cut from some kind of special cave, not recommended even by magic users- oh, EX-magic users of course- for any but the strongest witches, or Seers of natural ability. Something about causing visions of the future and increasing their intensity, coupled with a powerful draw towards those who _can_ use them safely. That sounds like a potentially addictive thing, and a cruel one. It’s just as well none remain here that it could call to. It’s not on the Isle of the Blessed at least. Every patrol that has approached there so far has been obliterated. It’s the Witches stronghold.

 

This ‘crystal of Neathid’ is alleged to be in the unguarded horde of a slain dragon. A dragon is a good choice of guardian for most things really, so at least there are likely to be fewer weird beasts to fight on the way in. That’s a plus on any quest.

It’s supposed to require years of exposure and practice to master the crystal. I don’t like how similar that sounds to what my sons have begun with sword and bow, like something a Master would train a squire up in. Leon is a good lad, a natural with the sword, and a born protector, but the expectations placed on him are not the same that my own father put on me.

I don’t expect to see him reach his own knighthood ceremony, the life of a knight is short and brutal now, not what I want for my son, but it’s much shorter and harsher if you refuse commands, however irrational.

The crystal, if we do manage to retrieve it alive, will go in the deepest part of the vault, no one but those of us being sent are to know of its existence or presence, and Gaius of course.

Storing so many possible weapons together seemed irresponsible, but then he was only a knight, what did he know of politics and strategy outside of battle? It was only one relic among hundreds that already lay under the citadel, it would be fine.Such a crystal might even be one of the few things safer here, given the lack of anyone who could possibly use it, or misuse. It couldn’t possibly draw anyone in or corrupt them with no one around with magic. He disagreed with the king’s actions, but his son and wife were the price for saying that, so like many others, he sacrificed his own integrity for their lives hoping _his_ obedience would cover any slip-ups a child might make.

 

As was now expected not everyone returned from their quest, but the crystal of Neathid was secured. If they had known just a little more about such things, or had a Court Sorceress still they’d have known to _shield it_ , contain the field of power. No-one recognised the nightmares of the little girl who joined the royal household a year later or made any such connections, the men who had retrieved it dead by then.

In their absence only the Great dragon, who wished to destroy it for the pain humans brought each other by abusing it, and a young witch it tortured could sense the crystal’s presence. Camelot’s king had long ago lost track of the items he had stolen and collected and made a habit of ignoring sensible advice anyway, even if anyone had survived to offer it.

Underneath Camelot there lay a cave of wonders, and a pit of horrors to rival hades itself, and one never knew which they were touching until it was done, and the power unleashed.


	15. Chapter 15

Uther growled, glowering at the council.

Today however, no one flinched. You see it’s very hard to be intimidating, even as a psychotic king when you sparkle with every movement.

 

Really Merlin had only been concentrating on stopping Uther from swinging as he moved towards Morgana, while the other part of his mind was panicking at the lack of warning. Why his magic had decided that _glitter_ was the best way to achieve this he didn’t really want to think too deeply about, but it had certainly been very effective as a method of immediate distraction and Uther had instantly forgotten what it was he was screaming at her about.

Obviously half a breath later this had been replaced with yells of ‘SORCERY!’ and ‘Search the castle’.

Merlin would almost be glad if they _did_ find a massive stash of cunningly hidden glitter under his bed, because at least then he’d know where the stuff _came_ from. Gwen was delighted about the whole thing, shimmering with a delicate purple glimmer. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was one of the servants who would inevitably be required to clean up after this type of event, Merlin would have considered trying to do it intentionally in future, as it made tracking people much, _much_ easier when they were shedding glitter.  As it was the castle _children_ who had been allocated the job of trying to contain the situation instead.

Having _been_ a child who liked to pull pranks, Merlin thought this was a _terrible_ idea.

He was not, however, stupid enough to say so, as any man with body hair should eschew glitter wherever possible.

Merlin and Arthur had been swiftly left alone in the throne room as no one wanted to remain in Uther’s vicinity at such times, and the king himself had left, yelling various epithets as black glitter left a trail in his wake.

Morgana remained long enough that the lesser men had left and she had tempered the anger burning in her gut. Anger was ok, she could handle that, but the woman who challenged older men in the council chamber and court would not admit fear while she still breathed. Not in from of _him_ , and not in front of the men who viewed her as little more than _meat_.

The look of appalled horror on Uther’s face when he realised that the newly sparkling rainbow on the walls was from _him_ was one she would treasure forever.

That the sparkles had spread to the rest of them didn’t trouble her in the slightest, really, she knew plenty of the court women would pay good silver for this as make up. Her own were a rich forest-green, and she wondered if it was a coincidental quirk of whatever magic this was, or whether they matched her dress intentionally.

Either way she was grateful for the timing.  Camelot’s prince might gain a back-handed slap and humiliation, but Morgana had had more than one hand at her throat, more than one torn dress, and like any proper Lady was not permitted to carry more than a belt- knife. Moments like that one, or when he had slammed her against the stones, she wondered how far Uther would really go. If even _he_ didn’t know the answer to that.

Right now she was simply grateful for the convenient intervention from whichever ‘vengeful’ sorcerer had acted at such a precise juncture.

How sparkles could be malevolent she didn’t know, but she was sure her guardian would find a way to interpret them as such.

Really it would be a shame to hide in a dark castle when she and Gwen looked like living gemstones, she flashed her maidservant a grin, “Why Gwen, have you seen the glorious sunshine this morning, I believe a ride out might be just what we need after this morning’s excitement.”

Smothering her own giggle and nearly choking as she saw the Camelot-red adorned prince Gwen managed to get out a strangled “Yes Milady, I’ll arrange horses and help you change… perhaps something _older_ milady?”

Morgana hadn’t wasted the chance to observe Arthur’s own situation and was positively gleeful as she walked serenely from the room. He just _knew_ she’d never let him live this down.

The prince looked sharply at Merlin, as though searching for something, whatever he saw it left the man frowning deeply.

 

As soon as the two women left and the heavy door dropped shut Arthur gritted out “ _Merlin_ ”, his manservant winced internally, that was _not_ a good ‘Merlin’.

“Yes Arthur?”  
“YOU are not…” He waved a hand towards himself.

Merlin’s confusion at the obscure non-hunting gesture was obvious. “ _Sparkling”_ hissed the prince. The man finally noticed what the Prince was glaring about when he looked down and found the _he himself_ was entirely free of glitter.

“Huh. Weird.” Apparently the wrong thing to say as the prince looked like he could explode at any second.

“You think? Gee, I don’t know, don’t you think it might look a _little_ strange of you were the only one to walk out of this room _not_ covered in ridiculous glitter and sparkling with every movement?”

“I swear Arthur, I have _no idea_ why I’m not… you know…”  
“ _Pretty?”_

“Oi!” Arthur raised an eyebrow, “ _No_ , not that I want- I mean- you _prat!”_

“I don’t want to know, and frankly _I don’t care why_ you are literally the only one who doesn’t look like someone dipped you in a fairy-queen's purse right now. God knows you’re enough of a girl without…” He waved vaguely, trailing the dust, “ _This_ to highlight it. Though if someone as pathetically girly as you _was_ ever to be ridiculous enough to attempt magic in front of the council this is _exactly_ what I’d expect.”  
“Well that would be stupid, wouldn’t it.” Merlin scoffed.

“Yes Merlin. Very.” The Prince deadpanned, it seemed as though he wanted to say more but instead grimaced like he was in pain, and bit it back.

“….”

“…..”

“For the love of… _Merlin,_ we can’t leave this blasted room until you _fix_ your appearance, so pick a colour, any colour, hell pick _all_ the colours and make sure you are wearing enough of this accursed stuff to be dripping it all the way to Gaius quarters to find a way to catch the real sorcerer, or reverse all of this _before_ my father overcomes his disgust and starts demanding we burn the sorceress, who at this rate must surely be a little girl with pigtails and ribbons.”

Vaguely horrified that he hadn’t noticed the discrepancy himself, Merlin scrambled for an acceptable reason to _not_ do this that didn’t end in severe bodily harm, too late for that really as Arthur looked _pissed_.

There were none.

The warlock of legend picked up a handful of multicoloured sparkling dust and tipped it over himself, he could see by the implacable look that it was not going to satisfy Arthur, and was inefficient, so biting the arrow,  he lay down and rolled himself through several glitter trails. Standing up he couldn’t bring himself to look at his prince, whose laughter was bordering on hysterical. Walking in as dignified a fashion as anyone could when they were moulting and covered head to toe in bright red glitter, Arthur was followed by the most dejected looking rainbow ever seen in Camelot.

Stumbling through Gaius doors gracelessly the men came face to face with a gaping physician, who looked between them shaking his head. “How in the- I mean what were you-” Giving up the old man broke off and retreated into his room, slamming the door seconds before there was the echoing of peals of his distinctive laughter filling the tower.

_“You will pay for this.”_ was growled by Merlin’s ear.

“WHY? What did _I_ do.”

“You? Nothing, nothing at _all_ Merlin. You _are_ however going to be stuck here, with Gaius until you both find a way to _un_ do it, and make everyone… manly… again.”

“Aww, are you sure? I didn’t think Gwen and Morgana would appreciate that,” He wilted under the gaze of his future King, who was difficult take seriously like this but clearly not in the mood for cheek. “Yes Arthur.”  
“ _Exactly_ the way it was before. Idiot.”  
As the angry footfalls grew further away Merlin’s guardian emerged and with one look at the man started chuckling again. “Here.” He handed the young warlock a damp cloth over the table. It took most of the day to find a spell to reverse what had been done to the good council members and the royal household, and the help of an irate pixie who had been sent to retrieve the missing pixie-dust. After discovering that it was Emrys who had ‘borrowed’ it the creature had been slightly mollified and stayed for dinner. Giving everyone the antidote was easy enough on Gaius’ authority

Departing in a silver whirl he took almost all of the apparently precious pixie dust back with him, but being a creature of magic the visiting pixie was quite happy to leave Uther sparkly for a few more days than anyone else as it vexed the tyrant. Leaving Emrys with a warning to ask next time _before_ nicking it, and an invitation to a reciprocal meal, which he accepted with caution, uncertain what pixie’s actually _ate._

When it took longer than expected for the potion to work for one man, Gaius had to sell the king some rubbish about how he had a higher tolerance to certain types of potion than some of his councillors and it being a sign of vitality. Merlin was blamed squarely for that difference, which he considered unfair since _that_ at least was their ‘helper’s doing. His protests fell on entirely deaf ears.

Thankfully Arthur found it _far_ more entertaining when only his father was sparkly, and he himself was not, sadly though, Merlin didn’t get to fully appreciate that sight as he spent the next week cleaning leech tanks, every stable in the castle, and being beaten to a pulp on the training fields.  


	16. Chapter 16

They’d been taken by surprise. It really didn’t happen often, the knights of Camelot were on guard at also all times, but they _were_ clumsy in confined spaces, and had been torn from sleep minutes before. Pursuing the assassin into the tunnels hadn’t been their best idea in hindsight- not least as it appeared he had been a mere poisoner- but what he’d been expecting to happen when caught clearly hadn’t judging by the dawning horror and his attempt to flee.

Arthur wondered if being poisoned might not have been more pleasant than his current position. Percival had knocked over the serving jug their would- be poisoner appeared to be stealing from the vaults. They _seriously_ needed to improve that security reflected the prince.

He thought they’d got away with it, perhaps there had been a mistake.

He revised this opinion about ten minutes into their usual training.

The men who had been present were… strange. Little they said made sense. All denied being there earlier, then looked irritated and angrily asserted again they had _not been there_ and did not remember. He would have been concerned about their memory, except that when he checked everyone had their swords, they had denied it, while waving them visibly in front of him.

They seemed otherwise well, so he paired the oddly behaving ones together, playing for time to solve the problem.

Leon insisted he had seen a schedule Arthur hadn’t written yet.

Lancelot assured them all he loved cook’s rock buns- which everyone knew he hated,

Gwaine declared an intention to take up full sobriety, and Percival insisted that he had never knocked anyone out accidentally. After knocking out his partner. Accidentally.

By the end of the session Arthur had a headache.

None of them could speak the truth, all they could do even close to fluently was lie. How could they be knights, who _couldn’t_ give their word on anything? Arthur would need to test it, but the only one he’d spoken to today had been _Merlin_ , and that hadn’t been so much a conversation. Several of the tasks he gave Merlin _didn’t_ need to be done by him, so it wouldn’t really have shown up he guessed, and he was perfectly able to dress himself, so that wouldn’t have flagged it up. The only one who had been present (because of course he had) and was behaving even vaguely normally- or as normal as Merlin ever got, was his servant. Who had been wandering around in the dark _again_ for some godforsaken reason. If it was anyone else he’d have assumed a tryst with some girl, but really, it was _Merlin_.

His servant had given _no_ indication of anything being wrong. At all.

It was worrying. _No,_ not _worrying_. Princes did _not_ worry about servants. Although he supposed most _servants_ didn’t turn up to _battles._

If there was no difference though, that must mean that Merlin had been lying… as his version of _normal_. Enough to not alert Arthur to a magical problem, and he _always_ did- huh, that _was_ a _bit_ weird. Back to the important thing, knights who couldn’t be honest. At all.

Perhaps Lancelot or Gwaine could help with Merlin though, he was always hiding things, maybe Arthur could use this as a test to find out just how much, if he didn’t tell Merlin.

Was that deceitful? He really should feel guilty about it, and yet… if _Merlin_ was lying so often, wasn’t that fair? He shouldn’t feel a need to know about the life of a servant, he _really shouldn’t_ , but it was _Merlin_. _His_ servant. What if he was in danger? Arthur hadn’t really considered that his manservant might have a full life outside that _excluded him._ Why would he? Whispered his mind, why was he really doing this, it shouldn’t bother him. What should he care if the lies were not affecting Merlin’s work?

Yet he did, very much.

Didn’t the man trust him?

 

Leaving the field his men seemed to mistake the cause of his frown and cringed. “I am not sorry” was muttered by more than one, Lancelot’s “I shall continue to endeavour to maintain this state.” Made him roll his eyes and assume it was supposed to be an unnecessarily flowery apology.

“Go to the armoury and do not remove things as usual, then to the council room as I am sure it will be full and entirely unavailable at this time.” Growling curses he was followed by an extremely confused Merlin. “Uh… Arthur… I have questions. That made perfect sense.” Merlin looked confused for all of ten seconds before rolling his eyes. “There is no chance Gaius will be able to help, there is absolutely nothing the matter with the knights, and it will be extremely difficult to fix if I am right, Which I never am.” He smiled brightly and followed the quietly raging prince to his chambers to help the man change.

“That made even more sense than I have come to expect from you Merlin.” It surprised him that the man had grasped the situation so quickly, though it shouldn’t have, really for an idiot his manservant-friend was quite intelligent, not that he could ever tell him that, even if he _could_ tell him the truth.

“We should take our time and go very slowly, this is a problem of no high priority that I wish to avoid addressing. The knights will not gather in the council chambers I expect.”

His headache looked set to become a migraine by tonight at this rate. Shockingly it seemed to pose no problem for Merlin to switch between the two and understand the gist of things.

“None of your clothes are set out, they are un-ironed, and your sword will be left dirty all afternoon.”

The prince shook his head. “Yes. You are not to go to _Gaius_ , he is the one we don’t need and he never uses you to help, no one else can clean swords, but everyone else can help Gaius. Fuck. You don’t understand.” He waved his hand in Merlin’s direction as then man cheerfully helped the prince dress for an official meeting. “Absolutely not sire. I never do.” Did he… did he just wink? Oh god, they really were all going mad.

 

Trailing half a step behind him, noticing Arthur’s mood, Merlin tried not to be amused. A spell for lies was new. Truth spells were a coin a dozen, he could undo those in his sleep- had done actually, but lies might be riskier. It was novel however to not be the _only_ one lying through his teeth.

Storming into the room Arthur found the men ready and waiting.

“Percival, you will _not_ be on an extra patrol for this.”   
“No sire.” The huge man blushed darkly.

“Leon, you will not be joining him for your graceful movements last night.”  
The First Knight nodded, “No, sire.”

“None of you are aware of what is going on?”

“No sire.” They chorused.

Arthur sighed in relief, “That’s unfortunate. I hoped to have to explain it all.”

Merlin, behind him was turning purple with the effort to hold the laughter back.

Arthur sighed, “Continue Merlin, you don’t need to breathe, I’m sure plenty of servants are eager to clean up your remains if you explode here. You will of course always be permitted to laugh in here again, as everyone will be encouraged to tell others this story.”

It was too much. The ridiculous man collapsed, laughing hysterically, he knew the knight’s code better than half the _knight’s_. Arthur could have not-sworn he heard strangled gasps of ‘word is their bond’ from the pile of manservant on the floor. “Do you think you can behave inappropriately for such a meeting now, idiot?”

“Probably. I mean no, sire.”

Arthur scowled. “Bad.” He groaned. “I love this.”

None of the others moved to intervene, watching the scene as though it was a horrific accident unfolding. “No stocks for you now, Merlin.” The manservant glared, but didn’t disagree, aware he was getting off lightly for openly laughing at the lot of them, though he suspected that once it was resolved Gwaine would be able to see the funny side, Leon and Lancelot looked genuinely horrified, and probably wouldn’t.

The others were having to concentrate to understand he realised, and it made a sick sort of sense.

Merlin could switch between lies and truth fluidly, hearing what _wasn’t_ said far too easily now, and wondered if that was obvious, but he couldn’t exactly _ask_.

“Gwaine is not to escort Merlin down to the chambers, I have no expectation of you, _Merlin_ helping Gaius search for a solution, there is no hurry, Uther will cancel the feast tonight  so you are not needed there too. Do not guard that pair for any reason Gwaine. Lancelot, Leon, Elyan, none of you will be restricted to your quarters, I do not relieve you of duty until further notice. Do you understand me?”

“NO SIRE!” The knights answered, all nodding vigorously.

“Merlin, don’t send boring George while you are available.” Arthur’s head was throbbing.

“I doubt Gaius has anything for headaches in stock sire, I’ll make sure George doesn’t bring you any.”  
“Princes need medicine.” The Prince _hated_ anyone to see him as vulnerable, even his physician.

“Then don’t call it an effect of the spell.” Merlin shrugged and grinned, leaving several knights in shock as he strode out of the room with Gwaine. Possibly the only one of them mad enough to carry on a conversation with Merlin in this state. He was well liked by these knights, but he was still regarded by most as a little odd.

 

Gwaine was watching Merlin carefully, remaining quiet until they were close the the physicians chambers. “Well now, you appear completely unfamiliar with conversing in lies.”

Merlin grimaced, “Men don’t do what is necessary to survive. I draw attention to your own, it seems fair that you point out mine.”

Gwaine accepted that without refuting it, entering the tower together.

“Do you regret them?”

Merlin sighed, “Rarely, but they are often for little reason and to put others in danger.”

His friend’s brow was creased, clearly less familiar with open lies, and more the subtle misdirection, which Merlin used _far_ more frequently but grasping the core of it. “That makes no sense. You know you can never talk to me. If you are troubled I would never wish to help. Ugh, _this_ is too simple to discuss in a second language. It absolutely cannot wait until someone resolves it. Should I watch avidly over your shoulder? In all the lands I’ve travelled no one ever required magic, or at most, knowledge of it to counteract a spell, they always resolve themselves without any interference. If such a thing was to be unnecessary, I might have to go and check a silence, or concentrate very hard on what you and Gaius are doing.” Merlin wasn’t sure whether to be shocked at the apparent willingness to overlook it, or appalled at himself for forgetting that many at the round table were either not _from Camelot_ , or had a wider education. He was a little hoarse as he met Gwaine’s eyes and judged his intent, the gentleness he usually hid easy to see, “I uh… I did hear a noise, probably something wildly dangerous, that needs to be checked.” It was as close to a confession as he’d ever got, at least since Freya, and there wasn’t so much as a flicker of suspicion in Gwaine’s gaze, despite the fact they were all currently spelled. Perhaps that was the most reassuring he could be.

“You know, I did hear something suspicious on the way down, I won’t be long.” He smiled slightly at Merlin, who began to pull out the most likely books, calling Gaius, who had been napping after a late night with another patient. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, even though both men were trying to ignore that fact.

“Gaius looked at Merlin as he explained the situation, badly.”

Asked quietly, “Did you do this?”

“Yes.” He shook his head vehemently.

The old physician sighed. “Well, I guess we’d best get on this, it’ll be one of two spells, on is a short burn, the other is longer lasting.”

" _Tell me_ it has a complex ritual I need to convince knights to take part in.”

Gaius grimaced, “Well…” Merlin sighed, running hands through his hair, already chaotic, “Great, how am I supposed to do _that?”_ Apparently _sarcasm_ was the answer to truth.

“If we’re lucky it won’t be, and you’ll only need a disgusting potion to reverse it.”

“When am I _ever_ lucky?”

The old man looked him over critically, “You’re still alive Merlin, I’d say that for someone like _you_ that’s pretty lucky.”

“Some might say so.”

“Merlin-”

“Look, can we just get back to ignoring the solution to this. It’s the hardest problem right now.

Gaius shot a concerned glance at his ward but didn’t push. Pushing the boy never got you anywhere. “I need to know how _this"_ , he gestured rather wildly towards Merlin, “actually happened.”

Merlin scowled, “Well, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much…”

" _MERLIN!_ If you finish that sentence I _promise_ you’ll taste nothing but _my_ cooking for a month."

“Not sorry. Ugh. There wasn’t… Percival wasn’t at all clumsy, and he repaired a serving jug from many pieces.”

Gaius looked as though he was going to need a headache remedy by the end of the day too.

“So if I understand correctly, there was an intact jug which Percival-the tall one- shattered, and this spell or curse was released.” Merlin nodded, “No, completely wrong.”  
Gaius sighed. “Right. This _vessel_ , was it young or old, do you know?”

“I recognised it easily.” Peasants didn’t have a great selection of crockery as a rule.

“Was there a handle?”

“No.” Even the warlock was beginning to feel irritated by now.

“Well, it’s a guess, but I’d say it is the second one.”

“Who is going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

 _“Gwaine!!”_ Two voices snapped.

“What? They weren’t about to come and check, Arthur never does on Merlin, even _they_ might not have caught me if I hadn’t come back. So what aren’t we telling who?”

“Gwaaaaine.” his friend groaned. “If I tell people it isn’t what it is then someone won’t be executed.”

“Ah. So there isn’t any of _that_ stuff I never notice involved, and no one has to be tricked into participating. What are we waiting for?”

“Have I ever said I hate you, Gwaine? Mind, tricking them will work more effectively.”  
“Shit.”   
“No, I disagree. I need them to drink it against their will, in a different place to where it was unleashed, and release it freely.”

Gaius lost his patience. “Shut up. Both of you! Everyone has to drink the damn potion, voluntarily, in the same place Percival forgot his arms are the size of trees, and a new vessel is required to capture the curse once it’s expelled from your bodies. If you are quite done being idiots, I suggest you go and find one less breakable, while I finish this cocktail, which I guarantee will _not_ taste as pleasant as the real tail of a cock, because the lot of you are _supposed_ to be less stupid and need to remember the lesson. Out now, go on, shoo!”

Gwaine seemed confused for a moment before Merlin dragged him bodily from the chambers. “The man is joking, he will not punish you without remorse, or withhold morning after cures.”

“That’s kind.”

Merlin nodded seriously, “Always mess with physicians and cooks.”

Gwaine winced. He knew the consequences of that one.“A more breakable vessel then."   
Merlin shook his head. “A more breakable vessel."  
They ran through options until Merlin landed on one he thought should do the job, well tested it had proven resilient as Arthur frequently threw his goblet at Merlin’s head, or the wall, next to Merlin, or knocked it onto the floor as he declared his love of- um, _poetry,_ after too much wine.

It definitely wouldn’t accidentally shatter. Feeling rather pleased the pair burst into the room to explain to the Prince it was near over, to find Uther looking apoplectic at Arthur, and just as quickly removed themselves. Anything magic related must never be spoken in front of _that_ king.

The knight’s quarters were the next sensible place, to find the woeful few, and assure them it could be easily fixed. As long as they co-operated and didn’t ask any questions. That wasn’t a difficult agreement to get. _No-one_ wanted to ask questions until the answers made sense again. They had tried conversing, Elyan’s black eye testament to its failure.

When Arthur got free of his father he joined them, fury tightly leashed but visible to any who knew him. “Well?” He demanded of Merlin and Gwaine.

“Well what?” Gwaine restrained the urge to smack his best friend, “The solution, Merlin.”

“Oh, _That!_ We found nothing sire, it can’t be made, and Gaius is not working on it. He found the answer in a book,” well, Merlin had, “It’s all very difficult,” Arthur relaxed, finally some good news. “I don’t know how long it will take to brew, so don’t follow us, it doesn’t matter where the antidote is consumed.” Merlin appeared to think he was entirely comprehensible. Prince Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and held up a hand to the man “Just don’t stop.”

Gwaine sniggered. “Gwaine, I _swear_ I won’t put you in the stocks too. Gaius is affected too?”

“Yes.” Answered Merlin and Gwaine together, shaking their heads. “Right….I… Don’t stay here.”

“Well. This is cosy.” Any room with Percival in, let alone six other men was _cosy_.

“Gwaine!”

“So straight-laced, all of you.”

Merlin raised a brow at him and he finally shut up.

 

Arthur returned twenty minutes later with a ragged looking Court physician. “I believe the Prince wishes me to summon you all to the scene of the broken jug, where _all_ of you are going to down a measure of this.” He raised the horrific looking sludge. “And thank your lucky stars that more damage hasn’t been done. Percival, as the one who shattered the last vessel, you will hold the new one as it draws the minor curse affecting you.” Percival didn’t look convinced. Merlin was glaring at the old man, how the fuck was he supposed to do _magic_ to contain the spell and direct it, in front of the knights, during a ceremony, without being caught?

“Is that- Is that _my_ cup?” Arthur half-yelled. “No.” Stated Merlin. “It’s very breakable, and hasn’t been tested, so will be far less reliable than ceramic you see.” Arthur turned to Gaius, “Gaius...can you.. I can’t…”

“What Merlin _means_ sire, however he is garbling it, is that the old jug broke easily, releasing the spell, and as metal, your cup will not be likely to release it again, no matter how clumsy the knights, servant, or hide and seekers are.” He left out the part where metal would require more direction and be more resistant to absorbing the magic in the first place and wondered how Emrys managed to pass as normal on a daily basis.

“Right, come on then.”

Merlin watched his mentor, feeling a twinge of concern as he noticed the old man seemed to be favouring his right leg but was interrupted by Lancelot pulling him along. “I think the Prince has a great deal of patience left.”

Merlin hummed an agreement. It was strange being in the tunnels before it was dark out. But there they were huddled. Merlin managed to situate himself next to Percy, with Gwaine on the other side, making it possible for him to slip his hand just far enough to touch the goblet, hopefully long enough to guide the enchantment. Gaius hadn’t been lying, more than once of them almost vomited as they drank the abomination he gave them together. Still unhappy with Gaius for putting him in the position, Merlin slowed time without freeing it, using the distraction of the others to cast the enchantment on the goblet Percival held, feeling his eyes _burn_ as he looked downwards. When he raised them and let time run to its usual speed again he saw Gwaine watching him, as though something had been confirmed. No one else commented on it though, and once Percival put the new vessel in place of the old one they were all too eager to leave the tunnel and stay gone. Gwaine said nothing, simply gripping Merlin’s shoulder, as he often did, and murmuring a quiet ‘Thank you’. He didn’t ask anything, or state why, but as he watched them go he felt warm, as though he’d been given something he hadn’t asked for and only now realised he needed.

Arthur was last to come out, checking there was no immediate threat and shoved Merlin, “Hey, Merlin, you’ve got work to do, there’s a feast tonight, and my father is not feeling generous,” Arthur cringed at his next words, but he needed to test it had worked. “Thank you Merlin, I know you helped Gaius find the answer and saved us time.” Merlin grinned brightly, “Well sire, I keep telling you I have _skills_.”

“Shut up. I said you _helped_. You’re still an idiot.” Apparently that wasn’t enough to counteract bouncy Merlin, but at least Arthur knew he could tell the truth again; and that he could lie.

The whole thing had left him with questions though, that he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to learn the answers to if he really pursued them.


	17. Truth and lies 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory truth spell.

The knights of Camelot, and indeed the _inhabitants_ of Camelot had trouble with magic fairly frequently, one way or another. After two weeks without any, most of the knights were feeling edgy and unnerved, it seemed unlikely that all of the magical people, and races of the five kingdoms had suddenly decided to up and leave, making many suspect scheming. Weren’t witches _always_ scheming? Most weren’t very inclined to answer questions.

When they were given a tip off to investigate it was almost a relief for some of them to ride out, which was all very well until _someone_ lied to the sorceress about their purpose in being there, and she turned out to be _very_ keen on honesty, as Arthur had found many old women to be- non magical ones anyway. Had _this_ one also been non-magical he was sure he would have been subjected, with Camelot’s finest, to a lecture on the virtues of being honest, glared at, and probably left feeling a little embarrassed. Instead, this one being a sorceress, kept her words very short and pointed, before appearing to whirlwind away with a squeak of ‘Emrys’. Must have been part of the spell.

At first it didn’t seem to have caused any damage.

He wasn’t an ass.

No crops had visibly shrivelled.

Nobody was unconscious- which was nice for once.

 

It became steadily clearer that the sorceress had in fact managed to do something on the return journey.

Percival spoke. In sentences.

Gwaine made sense. Actual, genuine sense and sounded… _intelligent._

Lancelot openly told Arthur off and agreed it was his fault.

This he could live with, really, if it got him a sane Gwaine for more than three minutes a day, which seemed about the maximum reasonable to expect, it was probably worth the rest.

Until he looked to Merlin. The man looked like he was about to vomit, pale, and if Arthur didn’t know him better, _terrified,_ except Merlin never looked truly frightened like that, by anything. Maybe whatever this was had had a different effect on him? By the time they made camp the manservant was sweating, and his lips were swollen, bites clear that could only be self inflicted, and Arthur was beginning to really worry- no, not _worry,_ he didn’t _worry_ about Merlin, no matter what anyone else suggested. He just… couldn’t afford for him to get any _less_ efficient. Really.

 

As soon as the horses were tied up the man left, heading deeper into the forest. Arthur couldn’t immediately follow his servant, but he _could_ clap Gwaine on the shoulder and nod in the appropriate direction trusting that _he’d_ go after Merlin. The pair seemed to share a particularly close (and entirely inappropriate for a knight) bond. If something was wrong with Merlin he might talk to Gwaine. For someone who _talked_ so damn much, Merlin said surprisingly little. At least about his own life. It had taken Arthur a _long_ time to realise that, but it couldn’t be accidental to share so little at the same time as he actively sought out companionship, and engaged with the knights and Arthur himself.

Gwaine was…. _Gwaine_ , but he cared about Merlin, possibly more than he ought to, and that was sometimes of use to the prince, bound by constraints, especially in front of his men. No matter how loyal.

All of the knights were looking bemused themselves, or troubled, so his attention was needed.

Merlin had been in a rush and left a trail a blind man could follow, Gwaine rolled his eyes, wondering for the millionth time how Merlin had survived this long. It was worrying to find the man slumped against an old oak, hair showing evidence of being doused with water, worse that Merlin’s hands were curled almost into claws around his knees.

“What are you doing here? I need you to leave.”  
Gwaine hesitated for all of a second before flopping down on the forest floor beside him. “Princess gave me the nod to come after you, I was planning on it anyway, because you look like shit and are bleeding. I take it you can’t lie or dissemble either then?”

Merlin bit down on his damaged lip harder and shook his head. “Well I guess we’re even for once. You know that running is only going to make princess more determined to come after you and fix the problem. He’s already annoyed I can follow you when he’s stuck. Lancelot’s lost his knightly filter, which I’ve never managed to get him to break. The man’s practically a monk.”

Merlin couldn’t hold back the silent tear, hating the betrayal of his mind, and Gwaine gentled his voice. “Hey. I don’t care Merlin. Whoever, whatever you are, you’re my friend, always will be. And you _know_ I’m not lying. You’ve more secrets than any of _us_ and it’d be cruel for me to ask and abuse the fact you are robbed of a choice right now. Do you want company? It’s cold down here.”

Merlin’s voice cracked as he raised his head. “He’ll know, they’ll find out.” His hand flew up to cover his mouth. The rogue knight reached over and covered his other hand. “If they do, you won’t be alone, and anything you say to me is to _me_ , not the knights, not the guard, hell not even to _Arthur._ Prince or not he can be an overly dramatic dick at times. At least three men here have family secrets, one is covering a lover, and under the bravado they are all terrified. We’ll fix this and you can go back to a double or triple life, and a mad mixture of truth and lies that are hard to disentangle.”  
“I thought you said you were my friend.”

“Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “I am. I already know _things_ about more’n one of you, none of my business what another man is hiding unless they’re hurting innocents is it?”

Merlin shivered, “You are a rare person Gwaine, you know that.” He took a leaf out of Merlin’s dark hair, “Not rare enough, but that’s ok. I’m counting on you returning the favour of us never throwing secrets back in each others faces. Come on, They’ll come looking if we don’t get back, and none of the others can make edible fare. Except Percy. Who won’t. He said there was someone he’d never risk threatening or hurting, he believes taking on that task could. He meant _you.”_

“Thanks Gwaine. You know you are _plenty_ rare enough. I just don’t have a good record of… I mean, the closer someone is to me, the faster they die, and I just can’t risk you like that.”

The knight cocked his head Merlin’s way, “Arthur’s still alive.”  
“Arthur’s fucking lucky; for some reason he’s the exception that proves a rule, and some days I wonder if it’s all worth it. I hope it is.” Merlin ended softly.

“I hope so too. You certainly are.” Gwaine looked away uncomfortably and stood, reaching down to haul Merlin to his feet, more composed than before, Merlin nodded gratefully to his friend, and clasped his shoulder tightly. “You have my word Gwaine. No spilled secrets. I’m rubbish with many things, but I’m an expert in those. Except today. Do me a favour though mate, if someone mentions a very illegal in Camelot-only thing _gag me_ , _before I can answer.”_

The ex-commoner had travelled widely enough to understand, Merlin hoped, and from the grim look in his eyes, he had.

“The second they mention it, I’ll even knock you out if it’s bad enough. Answer me one thing, my friend. Are you in pain?”

Merlin wished for the lies to come and couldn’t look at Gwaine as he answered, “Always.”

The knight looked unsurprised, as though it was the answer he’d expected, and didn’t pursue it, accepting what was offered most willingly. 

“Well then, we’ll go back gently. Come on. If we’re really lucky, we’ll get to see Lancelot finally lose his shit.”

Merlin cringed, Lancelot was the only other person who knew his secret; who also now couldn’t lie. Gwaine caught a sideways glance from Merlin and smiled softly. Merlin mentally revised his conclusion, _maybe_ the only person who knew.

Neither of whom could now lie.

When they reached camp it was set up, and even Arthur didn’t complain about his servant absence, for once sensing that things were in a delicate balance. Gathering around the fire, the normally animated group banter was notably muted and serious.

On rejoining the group Merlin set up the stewto cook, they’d just have to deal with the meat being dried, he couldn’t possibly have concentrated well enough to butcher a rabbit like this.

 

Arthur looked around the group to see that they were all present. “May I take it then, from the recent behaviour, that you have _all_ been afflicted with a severe case of ‘honesty’?

Going around the circle the each nodded, muttering various conformations.

Arthur frowned. He didn’t want to encourage dishonesty within the group, or distrust, but that couldn’t be built on forced confessions. He _was_ disturbed at just how many things seemed to be lurking just underneath the surface, but then _he_ had found it impossible to restrain certain actions and had _agreed_ with Lancelot that he was worried about Merlin, questioned aloud how long it took them to start the fire, and criticised his father. The prince always played off his concerns for his servant’s wellbeing, ignored most mundane practicalities, and _never_ _openly_ criticised Uther, unlike Morgana had. He’d envied her that particular freedom once.

Curiously Lancelot had seemed to shed some of the weight he always carried at that.

 

“I am declaring an amnesty to apply to all of you, until we find a way to break this spell. Immunity to accidental admissions and revelations that would never normally happen without this… _curse_ on you all. Please note, Gwaine, that it applies _only_ to unintentional things. What is said between us does not leave the group, and should that happen, the punishment will be _severe_ , am I understood?”

All of them agreed to his terms, they were more than reasonable. “Good. I’m starving, and we have no leads on where the sorceress went, or what her goal was with this.”  
“She did say we needed to learn the value of the truth, and that Camelot’s lies defiled her home.” Percival was abnormally calm for someone in his situation decided Arthur.

“Mmm, Something about hiding.”  
Gwaine growled, facing Leon, “ _All of us._ She said _ALL of us_ hiding _.”_ The last thing they needed was Merlin to spook and run off again, though he suspected most of the group were more focused on covering their _own_ secrets than concentrating on anyone else.

“We could shorten this torture you know.” Said Arthur slowly, “By being honest about the things that clearly each man is focusing on and trying not to spill.”  
Lancelot snorted “What do _you_ know about spells and magic? You literally just called _this_ torture and no-one has been so much as scratched. Why should we listen to your theories of shortening it?”

Stunned at the usually restrained knight’s outburst Arthur was spared from responding by a vaguely strangled voice from the corner, “No, he’s probably right this time Lance, the spell was a temporary one, lasts only until it’s purpose has been accomplished and then dissipates harmlessly. It’s not a destructive type, or a combat spell, it really is just a crabbit old woman trying to teach ‘young’ hoodlums a lesson. It’s not anchored to anything, can’t hold indefinitely, but certainly long enough to achieve a greater _understanding_ of each other and the value of honesty.”

Trying to sort out his conflicted feelings- Merlin was speaking, good, Merlin was maudlin- that was bad, Merlin was… intelligent? He should remember that this time, both were trying not to speak, and _how dare the witch force them_ flashed through his thoughts.

Arthur shoved it all to the back of his mind for later. “Did you just say I was _right?”_ He tried for something closer to their usual light teasing.

Merlin glanced away, refusing to meet his eyes, “I said _probably_ right. I do that sometimes.”  
“How do you know so much about spells Merlin?”

Lancelot and Gwaine froze, Arthur gave no indication that he had noticed it in his current state of hyper-awareness of the men.

“Research.”

Perhaps he could tell the truth without telling _all_ of the truth at once, fool the spell? Remembering the fear in the sorceress’ gasp of ‘Emrys’ he buried the hope quickly, he couldn’t afford the distraction.

“Just research?”

“No.” Arthur opened his mouth to respond and was interrupted by a surprisingly quiet but firm question from Gwaine, “Arthur. If there was something- _anything important-_ you wanted to ask, or find out from Merlin, or _any_ of us, seeing as every man present is twitching and sitting like he’s atop a wasps nest, wouldn’t you rather hear it because of trust and a desire to _offer_ the confidence, than steal it against their will. ‘Far as I can see _that_ isn’t so far from torture as Lancelot reckons. You’ve my respect most of the time Princess, and of the others more, and it’s largely that you don’t use all those under you for entertainment or as possessions; don’t throw that away so easily.” Arthur realised the man’s words were in earnest and wondered what he knew, or _thought_ he knew, and what he himself was hiding. Still watching the half-reformed rogue apparently read his thoughts and he nodded towards the others and quite calmly spoke to his prince “You prove to me we can trust you not to try and force it from us, and I’ll answer your questions of _my own_ secrets voluntarily, but I’ll do it alone and without an audience. I know who Uther’s employed in the past, and truths freely given are worth more than any stolen unwillingly, I promise you that.” He held the prince’s gaze just long enough to see the moment he agreed before looking away.

“I am disappointed to see how thin our loyalty and trust is.”

“Perhaps Sire… perhaps you are misjudging the reasons that secrets are kept. Each of the knights trusts the others with his life, else they could never quest or ride to battle together. Many things that are _hidden_ are not compromising of only one person but could endanger others or reveal secrets not _ours_ to share.”  
Arthur’s expression gave no hint to his feelings, “What about you Merlin, you come on quests you should have no part of, ride to battles without a sword. Do _you_ trust us with your life.”

Merlin tried to answer ‘Yes’, because of course he did, and was confused when it wouldn’t come out. Troubled, Arthur stared into the flames.

“Wait, Arthur, I. The words.” Anger rolled through Merlin, “I trust you in battle, and on quests, and I trust you to always do what you believe is right.”

“Just not with your life.”

“I… I thought I did. I have done, often, just apparently not _enough_ to satisfy the requirements of absolute truth. Oh when I find her….” Merlin bit down _hard_ on his lip.

Arthur regarded the servant he considered a friend closely, “ _If_ you should find her, I don’t want you to _do_ anything without me.”

It troubled him that Merlin had been coming with them on patrols, to battles, to _everything_ , and yet couldn’t say that he trusted them with his life- and yet _he came anyway_. There was something _wrong_ with that. Why did he come the, and how did he dare, or did he just not care whether he came home? Merlin had always _seemed_ keen to fight and survive before, had he not noticed something terrible… Arthur tried to shake the ugly train of thought.

 

Merlin could taste blood and shot Lancelot a glare at his open amusement.

“Percival, perhaps you would be willing to share any of the things you hold between us?”

“No, Sire.”

The Prince sighed. “Then pray give me a _reason_ for your silence.”

“None affect me alone, and would put others in danger.”

“I suppose I cannot hold against you that you uphold the knight’s code, to protect the innocent.”  
“ _I_ believe them innocent. I do not know whether others would.” Percival cursed, loudly.  
“I’ll assume you didn’t intend to add the last qualifier to that then.” Arthur said, dryly.

Leon looked troubled, he fidgeted, uncharacteristically, “I think that many here have had a colourful past Prince Arthur. Some in lands with different laws, or with families who are different. In the court, even just the citadel, many decisions and judgements are simple and clear, but outside it is far more difficult and survival more tenuous.”

Leon rarely _questioned_ orders, and Arthur wondered how long he had thought been thinking of Camelot as two different places.He found himself unable to disagree with that perception though when taking some of their patrols into account. He had always known his close circle of knights were complex, none were simpletons, an intentional choice on his part, and the fools always died quickly anyway. Brute force would only see a man so far. Much of their _past_ though had been irrelevant, especially as they had deliberately been setting it behind them, helping _him_ to build a better future, and now he wondered if it wasn’t a great deal more significant than he had treated it as. A man’s past could haunt him, and more importantly it could _follow_ him.

“I would like to know your stories, all of you,” He made sure to catch the eyes of each man with him, “As much as you _can_ tell me. _When_ it is not a compulsion that you are fighting. That doesn’t mean I want the clean version, the adjusted for noble ears one, but that I want to know honestly what threats and triggers each of us bring. The experience.

We can use this to make something truly extraordinary, but only if each of us is willing to offer themselves _fully_. When this ends I will want to speak to each one of you, and you will have the chance to make a choice.

You all did so once before, you chose Camelot, you chose each other, you chose to serve under _me_. Now I know each one of you, much better than any future king is supposed to, and would have you all remain, you are, more than any others, _my_ knights,” he spared Merlin a look, “ _and_ my servant, but as regards any kind of inner circle, better than any council my father has _ever_ had, the truth will one day matter. It always comes out, and denying it… well we all saw what happened to Morgana when Father denied and rejected her.”

“ _Once and_ future king” came muttering from the direction of Merlin, Arthur ignored it. He was _trying_ to restrain the curiosity.

“You want that gag _now_?” Hissed Gwaine beside him, and the warlock groaned, _please goddess_ let him not know the significance of that title. Ah, hell, he’d probably ended up in the bed of some pretty druid girl at one point or another. Emrys and the once and future king were gossip topics for some of them. “No thanks, I’m good.”

“Sure you are.” His friend rolled his eyes.

 

“Lancelot and Percy, you’re on the first watch, the second I’ll takewith Gwaine, Elyan and Leon you’re on third.” Gwaine frowned. He knew exactly why he was paired with Arthur tonight, and he had no intention of giving away anything about Merlin. Unfortunately he rather suspected the only way to get out of that one might involve some of his own confessions.

No one stayed late around the fire that night, going to their sleeping rolls without much delay.

Gwaine was right, Merlin realised. No one _wanted_ to talk, they were _all_ afraid of being found out, and fair enough, no one could possibly have anything as big as he did to conceal. He highly doubted that anyone could beat, ‘Oh yeah, I’m actually the most powerful warlock to ever live, you are a figure of prophecy, I’m the Last Dragonlord but that only happened _after_ I released the Great dragon, and I’ve been doing magic the whole time I’ve been living in Camelot. Might also be useful for you to know Nimue isn’t a threat anymore and the Druids won’t help Morgana because I’m pretty much the closest thing they have to a king and I am _really pissed off_ at The Witch.’  
Still, clearly _the knights_ thought their problems and past were terribly shocking and dramatic, and would be more serious than the others, or at least _some_ others. He could almost understand why Arthur wanted to push for answers. He just understood better that there were always complicated reasons for keeping them secret and equally complicated outcomes. He decided the first watch was probably his best bet for sneaking away. Lancelot and Percy were good knights and better men, but Lancelot would likely overlook him leaving in the middle of a magical situation, and Percival understood the need for space as not all of them did.

 

When Arthur and Gwaine were on watch he’d have no chance of escaping tonight.

Leon wouldn’t overlook someone leaving camp, and Elyan was still trying to prove himself to the ones Gwen loved.

Waiting long enough for the breathing patterns to all into a sleep rhythm he left, using a silencing spell. He walked a long way for it being full dark, but Merlin didn’t get lost in woods, If Camelot was Prince Arthur’s, the forest belonged to him, it always had, and the stars were a blatantly displayed map anyway.

Back at camp Arthur was amazed the man had waited this long to wander off, why he didn’t do a better job of checking no one was faking the prince would never know. He would never admit to Merlin that he knew his manservants sleeping patterns, but they had travelled alone often enough, and often slept close enough together for him to be _well_ aware the man had nightmares, bad ones, though they lack the screaming that came with Morgana’s. He had seen some of what the servant had lived and eventually realised it wasn’t what he’d ever expected to deal with, growing up subsistence farming. He couldn’t really be angry at someone for suffering insomnia or avoiding sleep when they dreamt of burning, the dragon incident had been followed by an increase in Merlin-nightmares, and his own Merlin related nightmares if he was honest with himself.

_He_ couldn’t leave without being followed, but he’d know how long the man was gone at least.

An hour later there was still no sign and Arthur was getting worried.

 

If the knights weren’t so close he’d have called Kilgarrah on a night like this one, and Merlin’s throat burned, it felt like his time was running out, and he had been forced again to reckon with the fact that every second that passed he was one second closer to Arthur knowing. Once he would have been excited, _happy_ at the prospect, now it was so much more entangled and daunting. Instead he walked until he figured the watch had to have changed but the thoughts were less all-consuming.

Merlin was right that the watch had changed, but he’d been gone far longer than he expected, and he was not alone on the path.

 

“Join me.” Arthur indicated the log beside him and Gwaine sat, accepting the flask when it was offered him. “Nothing interesting in it, just water.”  
“I don’t drink on patrol. Well, not unless we’re overnight in a familiar tavern.”

Arthur’s brows rose, _that_ he hadn’t known, despite knowing the man took his _duties_ seriously.

The man’s lips twisted, “Just don’t tell Lance, I’m waiting for him to openly tell me off instead off silently judging based on assumptions.”

“He does that?”

Gwaine snorted “You don’t?”  
Arthur looked out at the night, “I’m the Prince, Gwaine, I judge _everyone._ It’s half the job.”

“What’s the other half?”  
“Rescuing damsels in distress; and feasts.”

The knight chuckled, “I thought you would have included questing.”  
“I did, there’s always a girl to rescue.”

“Uhuh. Sure there is.” Gwaine smirked.

“Shut up Gwaine.”

For once the knight didn’t argue. The silence didn’t last long before Arthur picked up the conversation again, careful to keep his voice low, “So, do you want to tell me anything without the audience, or wait?”

Gwaine looked over him carefully, “How about I give you some of the bare bones now, and the raw parts that left deeper scars wait for me to have my own mind back? I’m not about to ask you what _your_ childhood was like, if he ever hugged you, or what age someone forced your first kill.” He could see that every jab landed, but let the Prince hear his sincerity. “Easy Princess, you don’t owe me your pain, as I don’t owe you an explanation of mine. Remember that.”Arthur took a calming breath. “The amnesty standsGwaine. You’re unsettling like this, you know?”

“Now you know how _you_ make most people feel then. When we met you were just another man. I was never in one place long enough to note most of the _nobles_. I stayed when you saw me and _didn’t ask,_ or _care_ where I came from, but you know you never did ask _why_ I hate nobles. I know it drives Leon more than a little crazy contending with that, and it’s one of the ‘later’ things. You’re the first one I’ve ever _chosen_ to serve. Not the first prince I ever knew. I met kings before it was to exile me. The world has plenty of bastards outside of courts, I don’t hold grudges as a rule. You’ve seen enough of that, I still enjoy a good brawl, though I don’t start them these days.

Nobles? That’s personal. So, anyway, there was an incident after my father- adoptive father I guess- died, and I hit the streets for work about the usual age for peasant boys, easy enough to pass that way once I got a bit torn up an’ all. Never really stopped moving after that until Merlin patched me up that first time. I think that’s enough for now, no?”

Arthur’s head was swimming, god he hoped not everyone was hiding things as significant as this could turn out to be.

“Yeah. Yes, that’s probably plenty to be going on. That’s a long time to be carrying a hidden past.” Arthur looked away before turning back to Gwaine, clearly trying to decide whether to take a risk. “Hey, whatever you say Princess, your terms only, it goes for everyone.” Arthur nodded sharply, just once, “I was ten. The first time. Seven the first time I commanded an execution. Leon was there after, I wanted to go home with _him_ that night, instead of Uther. This feels like a conversation that should have more wine.”

Taking the statement for what it was Gwaine went for flippancy, “Every conversation should have more wine, unless it already has mead.”

“Hmm. Or is with Merlin. Wine is _not_ for him.” Best friend or not, Arthur wasn’t wrong, Merlin still drank as though he’d barely touched unwatered anything, and Gwaine knew he avoided it in most situations.

“Speak of the griffin,” Arthur rolled his eyes, there was a less silent approach than his sneaking out had been, then it stopped,

 

In front of Merlin was a woman kneeling, not as though she had fallen, but as his knights, or his people knelt to _him_ , and it sounded as though she was crying. Why would there be a crying woman with his servant? Arthur almost stormed into the clearing, but realised he might learn more if he treated Merlin like a baby deer who could flee at the sign of a hunter. He didn’t seem very fawn-like right now though.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm, I didn’t see you, and they were just _there_ , My Lord. I- I panicked, and figured since I was about to die anyway I’d nothing to lose teaching some manners. I never meant any _harm_ to anyone.”

Merlin sighed, sounding exasperated, exactly the way Arthur himself sounded after stammering, apologetic women had been in court to air their pleas or grievances.

Instead of yelling- although even Arthur knew that would have woken the others- Merlin knelt down next to the old woman and handed her his kerchief, “Right. I know, I know, it wasn’t intentional and all of that, but you just made my job _a lot harder_.”  
His job? Merlin’s job was as his manservant, or apprentice physician.

“Do you know how hard it is to keep the prat _alive_ , and most of the knights have been conditioned to think every single spell will kill them, you’re all afraid of each other, and no-one willing to admit it. What you did robbed them all of privacy, which yes, they did to you first, but it _was_ a violation, and could have done a great deal of damage. Since honesty and truth are so important to you, tell me; What are you doing back here? Any rational woman would have fled in the other direction and not looked back.”  
“I made a mistake. I just- I want to fix it My Lord, lift the spell. I could do it while they sleep? Maybe they’d just think it wore off over night?”  
Merlin ran a hand through his hair, “With anyone else it might work, but this lot keep watch through the night, they’ll not all be asleep at once, and honestly, you embarrassed a couple, so the whole running off thing isn’t going to work now. I believe you meant no harm, and regret your actions. I won’t offer you punishment or condemnation, but it isn’t my place to do so, I’m not the king, the men you caused pain to are not _my_ men. Plus I made him a promise not to act alone if I _did_ come across you- which by the way may have saved you from paranoid reflexes, so you might want to thank him for that, actually maybe not, as that would mean telling him about the reflexes.”

Oh, good grief. Leaving aside the fact that his manservant had just effectively declared _him_ king, and was having a calm chat with the sorceress who had done this to them, while addressing him by a title, there was still too much to unpick, _and_ Gwaine, who was waiting for them, turned out to be _deep._

Merlin stood and helped the old woman to her feet. “Come on, have a seat on that rock, your joints will seize completely like this, and we can’t have that. Do you trust me?”

She didn’t hesitate, “Yes My Lord.”

Merlin groaned. “No, no titles, no ‘Lords’ or- or the other thing, just ‘Merlin’ alright. It’s worked fine for a couple of decades already. The old woman smiled sadly, “Merlin then. Even you can’t run forever from the truth.”

“I can try.” the man growled, “You can prove it by staying here, and not moving, while I go get the prat- dammit, the _Prince_ , and he can decide what to do with you, it would definitely be simpler to lift the spell with people asleep, but since _I can’t lie now_ I don’t think we have many options left.”

“Sorry My- Merlin. If he is lenient I’ll make sure they know he’s real.”

Arthur couldn’t stay longer if he wanted to be _waiting_ when the man came to get him, and really, he wanted to test whether Merlin _did_ mean what he said, did trust Arthur’s judgement. He didn’t like doubting the loyalty of those around him, but this would at least tell him one wasn’t trying to subvert his power, if having been offered the opportunity to do exactly that, without believing he was under observation, he turned it down.

Arthur swiftly made his way back to Gwaine and cast him a warning look as he settled and arranged himself to appear as though he hadn’t just been watching Merlin conspire with a sorceress. Gwaine looked concerned as mere minutes later their friend stepped back into the camp. Rather than stumbling back to his sleeping place he intentionally sought out the Prince and hissed at him, “Arthur, I found her, the sorceress, she’s not the far away.”

“So what, you decided to just _leave_ her?” The prince managed to feign outrage, “She promised not to run, and _you_ told me not to do anything without you. I thought you’d be happy I was doing what you said without arguing for once, you’re never happy, are you?”

“Oh, the _sorceress said_ so did she, well that is an absolute guarantee of reliability isn’t it.” Arthur winced as he saw Merlin’s face fall, had he gone too far? The grin he plastered on could only be grotesque, apparently the witch wasn’t only against verbal lying. “Come on then, quicker the better, but she only came back to offer to do something.”

“Not because she regrets what she did Merlin?”

“Well, yes that too, but not primarily no, she had a realisation and wants to prevent any harm coming to you all, she’s offered to lift the spell.”

Arthur paused to look properly at Merlin, who was avoiding meeting Arthur’s eyes, focusing only on the way ahead, and reached for his shoulder. “Should we trust this.”

“What?” There was confusion in Merlin’s expression.

“Merlin. You understood earlier. I am quite certain you understand now. Should. I. Trust. Her. Can this spell be undone the way she says?”

Merlin's breath came shakily, “Yes Arthur. It can.”

“And would you _know_ if she tried to change it, or wasn’t performing the counter spell.” Merlin closed his eyes, looking sick again. “Yes Arthur. I’d know.”

“Alright.” He spoke carefully. “Take me to her. Let’s hope she hasn’t panicked.”

Merlin’s gaze slid sideways and his pace seemed to falter for a second, “I think she just wants it to be over, and leave Camelot alone for the rest of her days.”

“You know by law that shouldn’t be long.”  
“But Arthur, she made a mistake, she didn’t have to return to fix it, and she came to us _knowing_ she risked her life.”  
“Yet _you_ told her to wait for me.”

“It’s your responsibility to try and dispense justice, your people.”  
“Oh, I think some of them might be yours too Merlin.”

Merlin bumped into a tree branch. “ _What? No!”_

The horror in his voice was oddly reassuring, “I rather think that Gwaine and Lancelot are you know, and really, boring George is quite disturbingly taking up your sartorial choices or recent.”

He saw the tension ebb from his friend’s frame only because he was watching for it. Really. Why him? They couldn’t just be simple.

“Please Arthur, she was alone and scared, You’ve made decisions yourself that you wished to go back and undo, that were forgiven in spite of their consequences.” His plea brought to mind another occasion with Merlin, of exactly that, a beach and a cup, and of the value of humility and mercy.

“Let me speak to her first, Merlin. I will consider it.”

When they entered the clearing it came as rather a pleasant surprise to find the old woman still waiting on the rock Merlin had left her on. The sheer terror on her face tugged at an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.” He kept his hand _off_ his sword hilt, though only Merlin would pick up on that. “So, my servant tells me you wish to make an offer. Talk.”

She clearly looked to Merlin for direction, lost when Merlin jerked his head unsubtly towards the prince, wish to cut short the painful attempts at silent signals Arthur intervened, “Merlin tells me you’ve already met. _I_ want to hear it from _you.”_

She was shaking, but the prince seemed to make no move towards a weapon so she began, “I -It was me sire, earlier. I was the one who cast the truth spell. I knew I was going to die anyway, andI- I panicked. It was stupid, and I was wrong. He uh-he found me here, and explained, I came because I wanted to lift it, but I can’t do it without magic sire, and the knights will not allow me to use that to free them, which is the only way such a thing can be done” Great, now Merlin sounded like he was choking on a moth and the woman looked scared again, eyes flicking between them both. “Ignore the idiot. Concentrate. You said you can do it. Are you _sure_?”

“Yes sire.”  
“Can you do it on sleeping minds or do they require awareness.” He already knew that, but he didn’t want to confirm it to Merlin yet.

“Yes,sire.”

“There is a little less than an hour before the changing of the watch. Is that long enough to complete it?”

“Y-Yes sire.” The woman stammered, wrong-footed by the fact that she was still breathing and being _invited_ to use magic by the prince, albeit to undo her own spell.

“There is only one other on watch with me right now, he does not fear counter- spells. If you do this, and it works without causing harm, you are to return home, pack your things, and leave Camelot. You will not be pursued. If my men wake damaged you will not make it to the border. Is that clear?”

He wished he could see Merlin’s reaction, but he couldn’t look away from the woman right now.

“Yes sire. Thank you sire.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t met the other watchman.” Arthur growled, “Follow Merlin, don’t dither, stay in front of me.”

He couldn’t quite quell the fear that having a sorceress at his back caused, but if they fixed it tonight, Gaius and Uther need never know, or hear things that could never be unsaid.

They reached the edge of camp without speaking until the woman saw the ‘other watchman’, “Gwaine!?” He stiffened and looked towards her, and rose, his shock clear “Shona?” He whispered, “That was _you?_ ” She looked away, shamefaced, “Uh, sorry, I um… I’m just here to undo it.”

“Well, I guess at least I can be sure you know what you’re doing…. Um- _Princess_? I have questions.”

“You’re not the only one.” Arthur grumbled, Gwaine inclined his head, “That _thing_ we were talking about earlier? This here is the first woman who ever patched me up, even before I left to make a go of things myself, and I’m sorry Princess but I can’t let you take her to Uther.”  
The knight received a sharp slap to the back of his head and reach up to rub it, “Ouch. That hurt, dammit.” The old woman snorted, “You’ve had worse from thorn bushes. Show some respect.”

“Arthur looked towards Merlin, “You know, I could get to like her yet.”

“Before or after you threaten to run her down by the border _sire.”_ The prince winced. Not all better then.

“Gwaine, don’t do anything stupid, and shut up before you wake even _them_.” Merlin folded his arms and came level with Arthur “You know what this requires, sire?”  
“ _Yes Merlin”_

“Just checking.”

“Well _stop_ checking.”

Seeing someone she’d known as a child seemed to give the old woman a sense of familiarity and confidence, she even smiled a little as she unwrapped the last of the web from the men, dealing with them one at a time, and finishing with the the three awake. “This way you can check there’s no damage.” She said to the prince. He looked at her in disbelief, “With Merlin and Gwaine?? Honestly, if this pair of idiots start making sense and seeming undamaged I’ll have to chase you for changing a servant I spent years training to be barely competent, and- well- _Gwaine_.”The woman nodded, kneeling in front of them thank you My Lords, your mercy will lift up this land again. As she turned to leave she was caught by Gwaine in atight hug. “He’d be proud of you you know. Maybe you’ve finally found that one that might be worth dying for. You always did have the heart of a hero.”

The whispered “Thank you.” was hers alone as Arthur and Merlin both averted their eyes to allow them a private moment before she really _had_ to leave.

 

“Go to sleep Merlin. You kept your agreement to me, no-one is going to follow _her_ , everyone should be fine. It’s fixed. No more spells, or forced confessions. I want to reach the city by tomorrow night, you’ll need the rest.”

Now the spell was gone Merlin was feeling a little adrift, it had been tempting, _oh so tempting_ to stop fighting, to use it but he couldn’t let go, and if he _had_ he had no idea who else would have heard, or the reactions. If he couldn’t do it now though, what would it take? He shuddered.

“Arthur… Thank you. I know that you… Thank you, for letting her live.” He swallowed hard as Arthur’s gaze burned into him, “As you said. We all make mistakes. She had the courage to face hers and no one was truly harmed. You can thank me by not telling the others how it was resolved when they ask you. Ever.”

“I wondered… I mean I you want… _Arthur_ , did you mean what you said earlier.”

The prince rolled his eyes, _“Merlin_ , we were under _a truth spell_. Of course I bloody meant it.”

“If it’s still true in the morning, I think there are some things I need to tell you. You listened, and you didn’t push for our answers.”

Arthur crushed the instinctive sarcastic response, realising that this moment could be pivotal if he was careful, disastrous if he wasn’t. “No. I didn’t. Just make me a promise merlin, just one, when you trust me with your life, when you can say _yes._ Tell me then.” Looking up he pretended not to see the tears, whenever that happened, any decent knight would let a friend have ash in their eyes.

“I will, I swear.”

“Get some rest, idiot. Not much night left.” He kept his voice gentle to prevent his own emotion leaking through.

 

Waiting for the lump that was Merlin to be still, and certain his friend was still awake Gwaine spoke audibly, “You know, Princess, sometimes there isn’t a day someone _knows_. There’s times that it can only be done with a leap of faith, when the only way to _know_ is by throwing yourself to see who’ll catch you, an’ how a man waiting answers the test tells him what sort of man he truly is. You ever wonder what sort of man you are? When break your friend’s fall, you’ll know.”

The Prince easily followed the other direction Gwaine was speaking and nodded tightly.

“A better man for my friends.” He spoke quietly in response.

“The wine you said our conversation should have. Make it strong. You’ll need it. I’ll meet you after we’ve all eaten and washed the dust from our hides if you still want the not-for-nobles version. You interested?”

Arthur looked at the Merlin lump and felt the familiar ache when he shut down, glad that he seemed to have given in to sheer exhaustion, and back to Gwaine. “Mead or something imported from Dalraida.”

Gwaine’s eyes lit up, “You have that?!”

“Father does. He hates it, won’t ever notice it’s gone.”

“Bring both. Leave your options open.”

“I’m going to hate this, amn’t I?”

“Possibly. Probably. Just one thing first, how exactly do you feel about bastards?”

“The kind who torture me early in the morning, or the kind who’s family failed them?” He couldn’t help looking over his servant, and caught Gwaine’s understanding nod. “Aye, the second kind.”

“I suppose it really depends on whether they grew into the first or not. After all, there’s Morgana, and then there’s Merlin.”

His knight cocked his head, as Percy turned over and settled, “Then tomorrow night will be interesting for the both of us. I’m not giving everything over one sided though. If you demand all of me, I expect the same _honestly_ in return. It’s up to you, Sire, how far this goes.” That there was no mockery or teasing in the title as Gwaine used it unnerved him, and made him realise just how serious the man was about this underneath the carefree rogue level. That was real, he had no doubt, but it was only one part of the story. Arthur wanted to know the rest.

“We’ll see. The offer to share it freely though means more than you know.”

“You’re wrong, Princess. I know exactly what it means. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

And in that moment Arthur believed him.

Gwaine looked around the camp at the others, his gaze lingering on a couple of them. “Changing of the watch soon.”

“We’ll have to check it worked.” Arthur shivered. It still felt wrong, to have allowed that, but she had been different, almost meek until she saw someone from her past, it _had_ to have worked.

“Don’t worry Princess, she’s what you might call ‘experienced’. Shona patched me up alright, but she’s the only one who left no scars. Besides, the first thing they’re going to do when they wake is test it, you know what they are like. I’m amazed Leon hasn’t been confessing terrible things in his sleep, I mean he sleeps across the way from me. Nothing can wipe the memories.” Gwaine shuddered dramatically, widening his eyes.

“Huh. Not the one I would have guessed for that, but _thank you Gwaine_ for the nightmares.”

“You’re welcome, Princess. Shall we wake these sleeping beauties then?”

Arthur rolled his eyes at the man, “I’ll leave it to you, it does sound as though you’ve earned _some_ petty vengeance. Gwaine grinned evilly. “Have I told you lately of your generosity milord?”

“Gwaine?”

“Shut up?”

Arthur looked at him intensely. “You _have_ been paying attention. Wonders never cease.”

“To some things? _Always._ ”

The Prince nodded, schooling his features again, “Glad to hear it. Take care not to let it slip now.” Gwaine might have bowed slightly, but it was probably a trick of the firelight, faded almost to embers now.

“Goodnight sire. I’ll see the Princess in the morning.”, but as he glanced backwards there was something new in the way Gwaine looked at Arthur, that might, just maybe, have been a flicker of true respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are wild mistakes I apologise. Epilepsy has been a bitch this week.


	18. Chapter 18

It being Gwaine, returned to normal- or at least as normal as he ever got, Arthur stole the spirits from his Father’s stash, and mead. There would already be wine in his chambers. Merlin was avoiding him, but he’d not have neglected that knowing how their last days had been, and there would be a hot bath waiting.  
The bath helped immensely, both with the aches and the grime, and Merlin did everything he was supposed to do, but remained quiet, which from him was distinctly unsettling.  
“You’re quiet.”  
“Are you surprised? I suspect everyone will be more reticent for a few days.”  
“It’s… odd.”  
“Yet when I talk you often tell me to shut up.”  
Arthur sighed, “When we are alone Merlin the same does not apply.”  
“Because if you weren’t a prince we might be friends?”  
Arthur was surprised that Merlin had apparently remembered word for word a comment he’d made so long ago.  
“No; because you are different. You don’t fit into any mold, you’re like no-one else, and you matter to me, though I may not often show it. Ugh, maybe this truth thing takes a while to wear off.”  
Merlin shook his head, but his voice was a little less flat when he responded, “No, she did it properly, no mistakes, all sorted. That’s the you underneath the title. The man.”  
“You sound unsettlingly confident in those assertions.”  
“It seems a little late to pretend I have no idea about that and the language. How else I could have helped Gaius I don’t know, the instructions often need translation; it never seemed relevant to this job.”  
Gritting his teeth to not push when things seemed so brittle between them, Arthur swerved, “How many languages can you read? Or speak? I know from royal visits and treaties those are not always the same question.”  
Merlin shrugged, “Whatever I need to in Gaius’ library, or Geoffrey’s. Some of the remedies and records are old, or carried from elsewhere. Latin, a touch of old Greek- which is a bloody horrible one that I can’t speak at all. Gaius attempted to show me something called Coptic, but I think I’ll be his age before mastering it. Cumbric to understand when they visited the Court for a treaty, Frankish is easy enough, I understand the Saxon tongue from the slavers, Brittonic, Cornish and Breton are so similar it’s almost like learning a single language. I can read the runes of the northmen. The Old Tongue is as easy as… It’s as natural as this one. I think I just have less occasion to practice some than others.” He shrugged, not seeing Arthur gaping. “Why? When did you learn?”   
Merlin looked confused, bloody hell, how did the man function if those were easy but this was confusing. “When I needed to. Gaius needed help, he showed me, he doesn’t need an apprentice less just because I have a job.” Clearly his manservant was insane. Not that that was news to Arthur, but he had underestimated the level of actual insanity, which at this stage was rather worrying. Merlin checked and banked the fire. “Arthur? I wanted to say thank you for not pushing. I know it’s hard. I trust you. With all but one thing. That thing is one I’ve never trusted anyone with. I don’t know how to. If I… when I can, you are the first I would tell.”  
Arthur’s gaze was piercing, “Perhaps then that is a test of what kind of men we both are.”  
Merlin dropped his gaze to the ground. “The one thing has created many smaller secrets and not all of them risk only myself. Many are…”   
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the slight quiver in his voice gone, when he opened them again the man before Arthur wasn’t the brittle manservant of moments before but the man to whom the sorceress had bowed. “You are not the only one to wear masks sire. To be one man and seen as different elements of the whole by different people, the Prince of Camelot, the son of Uther Pendragon, the Champion of Camelot, the good man who sees the common folk as human, the Arthur behind these doors. All of those around you know some of you and yet no-one knows all. Holding on to your own certainty of who you are becomes difficult, and mistakes are inevitable. There are those who forget your humanity, expecting perfection, or forget your youth and expect the wisdom of decades, some who ignore your integrity and expect it to be easy to corrupt you. You are not alone in this. You haven’t been for a long time, and yet it doesn’t make the responsibility easier to bear. Arthur. I didn’t read about destiny in a book. Destiny is a cruel mistress, and in books she is romanticised. None of my loyalty, sacrifice, or friendship that was offered has ever been a lie. I am more myself with you than any other, and you are the only man I will ever serve and willingly bend the knee to. If one day you forget everything else, remember that.” And just like that the fire faded, “I’ve armour to clean, and polish, and draughts to deliver for the night sire, if you’ll excuse me.” Taking his leave with an armful of dirty armour as though he hadn’t just spoken to the Prince Regent as an equal and challenged him.

Gwaine arrived to find an already baffled looking prince staring into the flames from his comfiest chair, goblet in hand. “You started without me I see.”  
“It has been a complicated night. There was… Merlin… in it.”  
“Isn’t any night with Merlin in either complicated or confusing?”   
Arthur hummed his agreement, “Well, I should probably apologise in advance as it’s about to get a lot more complicated. Where’s the mead? I’ve never sat down and told this story in all the bars I’ve earned a meal by story telling. I’m going to need the liquid courage.”  
“Alright. It’s on the table. Your fidgeting is getting disturbing. Stop. Sit down.”

Gwaine did, rolling his eyes nonetheless, “Yes, Princess.” He took a deep drink from the cup before meeting Arthur’s eyes and settling back. He hadn’t visited many of those memories for years now.

“Do you know what happens when a king decides he wants a woman?” Arthur nodded slowly, he knew, he’s seen.

“Aye. He takes her. Whether or not she’s married suddenly becomes a lot less significant, and if it’s a noble bound to him no one bats an eye. I assume you know what can happen in such cases, especially if he keeps her for a while.” Arthurs lips pressed tightly together, he had a horrible feeling he knew where this was going.  
“My father served Caerleon, a long time ago, and my mother, she was trapped by rank and convention, once the king took a fancy to her she spent nearly a year as part of his household. Right up until he realised he’d got her with child. The Queen was generally a just woman, and understood it happened frequently in arranged marriages like theirs, but her own first child had been lost to fever the winter before, and without a male heir her position was less secure.”   
Oh god, Arthur had to clamp down on his instinctive explosive reaction, he needed to hear the rest. “She allowed my mother to remain at court until the baby was delivered, if it was female, she could stay, a girl was no threat.” Gwaine took a deep breath and watched Arthur carefully, “I wasn’t.” The Prince closed his eyes, and made use of his mostly full goblet.

“Right. You are many things Gwaine, but a girl isn’t one of them. Go on. You’ve got this far, though I see why you specified a lack of audience.”  
“A male with Caerleon’s blood was a threat to her, and my mother was exiled from the court, sent back to her husband’s estates as though she’d never been away, with another man’s child at her breast. The man I called Father was- he was a good man. He took me on, raised me as his own, just the same as my sisters, so while to many I appeared his son, it was common knowledge my parents weren’t married, Father continued to attend court, meetings, and serve the king, and my mother hated it. I was a part of the reason she couldn’t leave. Until there was a legitimate Prince, I was insurance, and useful. Once there was they lifted the ban on my mother being seen in good company. Once there was a sweet little boy the Queen’s grief eased, and she seemed to change, or so Father said. Perhaps it was fear, or jealousy, or pain, but it was too late to undo much damage. I didn’t like spending time there, with them. I was like a lesson of what terrible things could happen if a man wasn’t careful, or what to avoid. I learned to fight the hard way Arthur, it became easy, instinct, something I expect. The way someone put a sword in your hand once you could walk, and stuck you on a horse in front of someone as young.   
Wow, that sounds like a proper sob story, it isn’t supposed to Arthur, I just haven’t mentioned it in so long that it’s um, disorganised. Anyway, I was allowed to spend most of my time away from all that nonsense, and found that those working the estate, the servants, the brewers, they were so much easier, kinder, than any of the nobles. Most of whom were sly and cunning.  
They knew where I’d come from and never mentioned it in front of me, didn’t regard me as anything other than the Lord’s son.

When I was twelve Dad died fighting Caerleon’s battle. It’s wasn’t for something important. He didn’t die for a purpose. He just never returned. Mother didn’t get his body back either. She managed for a while, running everything, but it was hard, and without him there wasn’t enough to keep things running. By the time I was thirteen she was forced to appeal to the king. She made the mistake of taking me. He said they would help, but I couldn’t remain with her, she fought him in front of the court.” There was a mixture of pride and regret in his voice at that, “She called him out on abandoning his own son, on being weak all those years ago and not being willing to deal with the consequences of his actions, either my existence of Father’s death.

The guards grabbed her and I stepped forward, I’d never felt such _rage_ before then; I stood between my mother and the king and denounced him, told him I hoped he would one day feel the sting of pain and grief he’d inflicted on my family. He stripped me of a title I never knew I had.” Gwaine couldn’t keep the bitterness from his laughter. “Barely thirteen and it turns out I’m supposed to be head of a family as no one will take them because of me. I told him I never wanted to be a noble and had no intention of ever breaking bread with one again, and demanded he release my mother. He laughed. Well wouldn’t you, a lad whose voice still cracks making demands of a king? He let me go because apparently I amused them for the evening. I don’t think I really need to tell you they offered no assistance to my mother when she was released. I left a few days after to find some way of earning coin so they could survive without having to- well you already know what desperate women do to survive. She remarried not long after, for the sake of the girls, but I couldn’t go home, it was part of the arrangement. So I spent a decade or so knocking around from place to place, making more enemies than friends.” He got up and served himself a large measure of the stronger drink, offering it to Arthur, who accepted without hesitation.  
The worst over, Gwaine seemed to be less rigid. “I heard a couple of years into exile you’d killed his son. Oh, don’t make that face, I know personally the boy was arrogant prick who wanted to fight the world. It meant suddenly certain people wanted to find me again, and I wanted to stay lost, I wasn’t joking when I said that first time if I had known who you were I probably wouldn’t have saved you. I’ve no regrets about doing it by the way, and Merlin would’ve never forgiven me either, but life got undeniably harder. If the slavers had had any idea who I was I’d not have still been in that pit for you to find, and they’d have got a better price.”  
“Merlin knows, doesn’t he.”

  
Gwaine shrugged. “He knows I’m a secret noble and the king turned my mother out when my father died in his service. Probably suspects more, but he’s never asked, and I’ve never asked about his, or the meeting, in the same way I’ve my suspicions.”  
“You won’t share them?”  
“Well I’d be a shit friend if I did, wouldn’t I? Not my secrets nor my pain.”  
“I have no idea what to say, or where to even begin. I’m going to need time to process and work out what to do with this Gwaine. In short, you are the only known bastard son of a king we share a border with, whose legitimate son I killed, and had a huge confrontation with that king before going into exile as a clearly crazy thirteen year old. Probably best then that I don’t have you in the welcoming party when they visit then, no?”  
Gwaine scowled, and refilled his cup, “Probably. Don’t tell the others. Please.”  
Arthur nodded thoughtfully, “Gwaine?”  
“Yes Princess?”   
“Is that why you show so little respect?”  
“No.” He shook his head vehemently, “That’s because a lot of nobles are just dicks.”  
“Ah.” He didn’t have the energy to argue. “Did you know Merlin is multilingual?”  
His knight looked over at him, bemused, “You mean you didn’t? The non-magical books in their tower are basically in esoteric code.”  
“Gwaine? I think tonight is a good night to get very, very drunk.”  
“That’s probably the best idea you’ve had in a long time. Just make sure it’s not bad enough to forget and make me retell this whole gruesome family drama. I refuse.”  
“Gwaine?”  
“Aye Princess,”  
“Shut up.”


	19. Night visits

Merlin couldn't sleep.

For a long time now he'd lain awake more nights than he fell asleep easily.

When he first started as Arthur's servant in Camelot, while doing all Gaius messages, harvesting, and dogsbodying, he had never imagined a day he would miss the sheer exhaustion that had him stumbling in the door and barely making it to his bed. There were nights now that he regretted the increased stamina, the increased  _magic_ , almost as much as the nightmares he couldn't wake from. He could go for a week without sleep, just burning on magic he knew.

Gaius didn't. He was quite sure that wasn't healthy, but he could do it if needed. Or if the nightmares were  _just that bad._

He couldn't stop running over the events of the last few days in his mind, lying there was pointless and frustrating. Tonight was not one that going to the lake would help.

Debating going for a walk again, or practicing something that wasn't possible during daylight hours Merlin felt a chill go through him and propped himself up on his elbows. In front of him stood a transparent young woman, hovering half a handspan from the floor. "Don't you know it's rude to just walk into a man's room with no warning?" It didn't really occur to him to be surprised by much anymore.

"My apologies sir. Knocking was impractical, one of the more irritating things about being dead, and I could feel you were already awake so figured you wouldn't be  _too_ shocked by me coming in."

"Through the door?"

"Well obviously."

Merlin mimicked Gaius eyebrow. "The closed, locked door."

She turned to check. "Yes sir."

"You know what, it's too late for this shit. No titles, none, I'm Merlin. Use my name."

"Um… ok?"

"I'd offer you a drink, but somehow I doubt that would go well. Are you here for a reason? Need help? If you were here to kill me you'd have attacked already, and not apologised for interrupting."

"Were you terribly busy?"

"Absolutely. Completely swamped."

The spirit looked confused. Merlin sighed. "No. Actually I was looking for a distraction, you're right on time, I think. Where do we need to get you?" In Merlin's experience spirits were usually trying either to procure a physical body, or move from one place to another. He hadn't got any useful crystals at that moment, so he really hoped she wasn't optimistic about that.

"Uther's chambers. It's my shift tonight, but I haven't done Uther before, so got lost. I just need directions to find his chambers."

Merlin stared at her weighing his options carefully.

"Sooo…. Tell me if I'm understanding correctly, because this feels like a dream. You, a ghost, want help to find the king's personal bedchamber."  
"Yes."

"And you have to this because it's what? Your  _turn_ to go haunt the already psychotic tyrant?"  
"Yes."

"And ghosts can get lost, and ask for directions?"

"Of course, we  _were_  human; not from most people though, there aren't many left who can see us, I miss this, the chatting, there really aren't many of us still here and none of the boys are cute, or interesting after so long." She sounded genuinely put out about their failure to please her.

"Uhuh. I'm clearly too tired to be doing this, because it sounded like you just complimented me, and I  _know_  what I look like tonight."

"You're in much better shape than any of the dead ones."

" _That_  is a lot less comforting than you think."

"Sorry."

"Ach, don't be, it's alright. So, what did he do to  _you_?"

The ghost whispered, "I was one of the first to burn."

"Well then, that's definitely deserving of some serious haunting. Let's go fuck with Uther. I just need to get my boots on, or I'll have no plausible excuse."

"Boots are louder." She sounded sulky about the delay, though she  _looked_  relieved at the prospect of help.

"Socks on their own are weirder." He bent to lace them up. "So you, or someone  _like_  you has been plaguing Uther this whole time?"  
"No, the plague wasn't us!" She sounded horrified.

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, that was Nimue, and then the unicorn. I meant, uh-  _occupying, accompanying_  Uther all along."

"Oh no, I mean we were all pretty traumatised, still are, but it passes the time, you know? A minor way to torment him back. We only really got organised enough to take turns a few years ago. Sometimes we swap, so he doesn't get too comfortable with a predictable pattern. "Comfortable. With the literal ghosts of his past haunting him. Well, just don't put any spare skeletons in his closet, ok? I have to clean up the results of those kinds of stunts."

"Are you sure, Merlin? 'Cause that sounds like a good idea, and there's  _loads_  of spare skeletons-"

Merlin pointed a finger at her, glaring, "No! Bad!"

"But-"  
"No. That's final. No skeletons, I am  _done_  with those."

"That's very disappointing."

"Well, can you intrude on his dreams?"

The girl twisted her fingers together nervously, "I haven't have much practice, the others can though."

"Well, if you come back tomorrow and tell me how it went, I can arrange some deja vu until you get a handle on the job."

"Thanks Merlin, that'd be great." She slipped a hand into his, forgetting he couldn't go  _through_ the door effortlessly, fortunately he  _did_ notice. "So can anyone else see you, other than Uther I mean."

The girl shook her head, "What would be the point in that?"

"I suppose. So why is it that you can hold my hand but not work doors?"

The girls shrugged and looked at him as though he was being deliberately slow. "Because you're magic. The door was a tiny part of a dead tree."

"Right, and just to be clear, no one else can _hear_  you  _either_."

"No! A disembodied voice would just be  _creepy."_

"Obviously." Grumbled Merlin, dragging her by the way the guards would leave open if you knew the timing of patrols. "Because haunting someone, even someone evil, that isn't creepy at all."

"It's  _less_  creepy." She insisted. "Oh, maybe I should try that!" She looked so pleased with herself Merlin couldn't hide his grin.

"Maybe. The voice thing though, I look like a completely crazy person wandering the hallways and talking to himself?"

"Oh. I didn't consider that. Yes, probably. Do you mind?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, "A lot less than I really should, but we need to shut up now, we're getting too close to risk it." He dropped his voice further. "See that door? Go through it, then into the tower, that one is his. You'll know the room when you find it- not the top one though, there's a leak needing fixed. Only servants in there. Good luck." He turned to slip away and the soft voice drifted back to him "It's Eileen, by the way, the name they called me by when I was alive."

"Goodnight then, Eileen." Merlin murmured, and added a silencing spell to his steps. If he did this again he'd remember that first, rather than be stuck on the she's-a-ghost-haunting-Uther thing. He wasn't planning to join her, or burn simply to entertain the masses. Nope.

Strangely enough, when Merlin lay down again it was much easier to let his mind drift, and when the nightmares came, he could have sworn this time he was just a little less alone with them.


	20. Uther's kid

“I suppose after you reliving all… _that_ yesterday I do owe you _something_ in return.”

“That _was_ the deal Princess, if a knight’s word is his bond, and you are the knightliest of knights, I expect you to keep it.”

Arthur waved Gwaine over to the chair. “Well go on, sort the-what was it you called it? Liquid courage?”

“Didn’t think you needed any of that, sire.”

“For this I do.” Arthur’s face went still like stone, and he sunk into the opposite seat. “For the first questions, no. Uther doesn’t _hug_. I think maybe twice? When he thought I was unconscious, my first serious injury, and after the bite of the questing beast- which is always fatal.”

Gwaine raised one eyebrow slightly, knowing that he was being obvious, “I can’t help noticing, Princess, that you are very much _not dead.”_

“Fatal except that one time.”

“Arthur….”

“Shut up. I never asked, it seemed like _a bad idea.”_

“Shutting up sire. Aye, he never did seem like the _warm, fuzzy_ type.”

Arthur sighed. “You should have seen him with Morgana when we were young. He was quite happy to embrace _her_ , drop the occasional kiss to her forehead, _touch_ her while she was awake without looking like he was sticking his hand in a vipers nest. I never really understood why then. He would offer power _or_ affection. Not both. I think as kids we _both_ wanted what we couldn’t have. Morgana was always desperate for the power, small things initially, like being allowed to train with a sword- you know I went against father to teach her? Without it she’d have died a long time ago.” He sighed. “I think it might have broken both of us, if I’d had the chance to prevent it and not acted, even now the girl from then is hard to reconcile to the witch we know now.”

 

Gwaine seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Arthur… I know you don’t know a _lot_ about _magic_ , but I thought you knew that much. Witches and sorceresses are different. A witch can’t choose. The magic is a part of them, inborn, like emotion. Reacts to that too. It’s awful when they uh… are _growing up_. I doubt that living in the household where one takes sup under the watchful eyes of Uther Pendragon is a situation she’d have chosen it in, don’t you? I mean, it’s not like resources to learn are very available here, and I know Gaius, Gwen, and Merlin have nearly burned. She knew well that being close to him probably wasn’t enough to avoid men like Aredian.”

Arthur appeared frozen in place. “Can’t choose?”

Gwaine shook his head emphatically. “No.”

“But it’s always a choice whether or not to use it.”

“No, Arthur. I meant it when I said as innate as emotion. They can’t choose. Without anyone to help learn control, they have no idea _how_ , it can lie dormant and hit them unexpectedly at a certain age. Ever tried telling a woman to ‘control’ hormones, or their flow? _Young_ men to control the _reaction_ of their dick? They literally _can’t.”_

Arthur felt sick, his past actions taking on a whole new dimension of horror.

“I didn’t… _why_ wouldn’t anyone say that?”

“Would you have listened?” Gwaine kept the accusation from his voice. It wouldn’t help, Arthur was capable of his own self flagellation.

“No. I… No. I’d have thought they were lying to cover themselves or an accused.”

Gwaine nodded, drinking deeply of the mead.

“That first execution at seven, it was for magic, wasn’t it?”

Arthur sounded almost as though he choked back a sob, “What else? Only four crimes in Camelot carry a guaranteed death penalty. I thought it was a more merciful justice than anywhere.”  
“Which four?”

“Well the other three are obvious, aren’t they? Murder, slave trading, though a visiting king may _bring_ his own slaves on a diplomatic mission, and procurement of children. Use of magic and harbouring a sorcerer are the only other capital crimes.”

“Indeed.”

Arthur swallowed against the _feelings_ that threatened to spill from him.

“Easy there, Princess. No pushing, right? When did you first try and join the knights?”

Arthur dragged up a bitter-sweet smile. “I was four. Leon’s father scooped me up and set me in front of him, said to hold tight, and took off across the field. It seemed like we were going so _fast_. I think he really must have been going barely more than a canter, but the horse itself was so much higher than I was used to it _felt_ like we were flying. He lifted me down after and my legs were like jelly. The next morning I turned up and announced I was going to be a knight. Leon’s father agreed with me and said I’d be the best of them all. Didn’t even show a shred of doubt, though I’m sure he was more amused than anything. It wasn’t a good idea to laugh at the king’s son. Especially when I was learning to be _bratty_ \- don’t dare tell Merlin I said that, _ever_.”

“I don’t have to. It worked.”

“Oh, believe me, I am not the same man that I was back when we first met. Leon remembers, and Guinivere, though the others at the table don’t. I’d rather you didn’t ask them about _that_ , but it’s not something I wish to regress to, or see in my own heir.”

“Trying to meet the expectations of others rarely ends well for a man. Especially when those around you all have different demands. Knowing what’s most important to _you_ and sticking to your principles works better for most.”

“What, like _you did?”_ Arthur scoffed.

“Ah, mate, I abandoned almost every principle for a while there, being alone so much was not healthy.” He frowned, “It took a while, and a Merlin, to find my way back. I’m here now though, aren’t I?” He smiled crookedly.

That he was, thought Arthur.  

“You know there’s a lot that as Prince of Camelot I can’t tell you.”

“Of course.” Gwaine looked almost offended. “But you’re trying, and acknowledging a promise made that you were left a way out of, that proves your heart and intent enough for me.”

Arthur was stunned. For all he had posed his men, his servant, tests of character and loyalty from time to time, it hadn’t really occurred to him that they could do the same to _him. Or_ that they might have the nerve and balls to do it.

Gwaine’s grin spread as Arthur clicked, “Oh you… you ass!”

“There you go. Nice to be on the same page Princess. We even now?”

“I don’t know, might have to try it with weapons next time.”

Gwaine shrugged, and frowned at his empty cup, refilling it, “I’m always up for a decent fight.”

“ _Decent fight?”_

“Hey, from me it’s a compliment, don’t knock it.”

Arthur scowled.

“You really taught Morgana to fight after Uther forbade it?”

Arthur nodded, twisting his goblet. “Lied to him to do it, too. He thought I had a crush on her, which in hindsight is really creepy that he encouraged.”

Gwaine looked ill, “Aye. I mean your sister’s gorgeous and all, but she’s _your sister,_ evil smirking and oddly heavy cosmetics aside, he knew that and still- just ick. My standards can’t be described as ‘high’”, here Arthur snorted, “But even _I’d_ never look at a sister, and not just ‘cause she’s terrifying- which by the way, Morgana is too.”

“That she is. She always was. You know she was the first one I _saw_ openly challenge Father and live? I should have asked why _then_ , he looked almost proud, but if _I_ even questioned him, I’d spend a night cooling off in chains, or if he was _really_ pissed get a back hander in front of the _knights_.” Gwaine cringed.

“Sooo, I should cancel the order for his ‘father of the year’ goblet then?”

Arthur smiled, he appreciated Gwaine’s ability to extract the information without making it too _girly_ and making him deal with all his feelings in front of him. He knew they were _there_ , of course he did, but let the man keep just enough of his _Prince_ persona to not feel completely open and vulnerable.

“I don’t think he’ll be needing it, no.”

“Maybe it’s a king thing.”

Arthur pursed his lips, glancing quickly towards the door, “I don’t think _Merlin’s_ father was a king, but that cup’s not required either.”

Gwaine inclined his head. “Careful what you say about the man there, it’s a lot more complicated than that, and you’re a damn lucky man that _he’s_ the most forgiving one to ever walk these lands. Don’t forget it.”

Arthur’s expression darkened. “Gwaine, what do you know that you aren’t telling me?”

“Not my secrets to share Arthur. I made a promise to _him_ first. I’m giving you a friendly warning, that’s all. I won’t break my word.  Bonds and oaths and all that.”

Arthur growled. He could hardly argue when his own ideals were being spouted.

“Fine. Be like that, but you _know_ he’ll just turn around and tell me he’s fine, or an open book, or was dying- shit. Gwaine. You get only only more refill. Help me find a parchment, and ink. We have a list to make.”

“How about no? Nothing good ever comes from _lists_ Arthur. Executions, taxes, bills. I am fundamentally  against list making.”

“Gwaine? Shut up, find ink, we _are_ making a list.”

“Arthur, I like you, but I _really_ think you may have had a brew too many. What in Camelot do you need to write anyway?”

“A Merlin list.” He spoke as though it was entirely reasonable that he should be insisting they do so.

“Right… and what exactly are you going to _put_  on this Merlin list? Should I leave? Is this going to make things weird in the morning?”

Arthur scowled at him, “Shut up Gwaine, stop thinking with your cock for one minute and sit at the damn table. We’re going to make a list of Merlin-tells for when he is lying!” He announced, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

“Are you  _sure_ Arthur? _Really sure?”_ The Prince almost flinched at the serious way Gwaine said it, suddenly looking much less inebriated than moments before.

Raising his own gaze to meet Gwaine’s he swallowed, nodding. “He’s never- he’s never going to tell me all of it. I’m not sure he even notices when he’s lying some of the time, when everyone else was thrown by the sudden inability to speak the truth he slid into it fluently. It took him _seconds_. Half the time his lies are terrible, but mixed with truth, and most of the time it’s too much trouble to try and untangle, or bad timing. I won’t demand the past, but perhaps I could notice better in future. I mean, _everyone_ would lie about women’s dresses, or hangovers, but dying in a forest is a pretty weird cover. I promised not to _push him_ for the truth, not to pay less attention.”

Gwaine looked ambivalent but handed Arthur the quill, sitting down and folding his arms.

“You know this could go wrong if Merlin finds out.”

“Well don’t tell him then.”

“Arthur, the man _cleans your chambers_.”

Arthur grinned, “Not everywhere he doesn’t, not since that one time he went in the bedside drawers.”

“Oh. My. God. _Arthur,_ I did _not_ need to know that.”

“Consider it payback for the thousand times I’ve been subjected to your conquest stories.”

“Noted. What have you got so far?”

“Twitches, unnaturally brightly declaring something grim, looking away when he speaks.”

“Put brightly declaring something grim with unnatural cheer under an indicator of truth, add the word tavern for lies.” Gwaine kept his input minimal, if he didn’t say _anything_ then Arthur would just go to Lancelot, who had….loyalty issues and was far too honest, once Arthur got an idea in his head he rarely let it go.

He looked up, surprised, “Really? I thought he was often there?”

“Only when I can drag him along.”

“And you never thought to mention that before?”

Gwaine rolled his eyes, “Every man deserves _some_ privacy Princess, if he’s got someone waiting, I’m not going to pry.”

“You choose some really odd places to draw boundaries, you don’t stay out of anyone else’s relationships or flings.” Arthur was _just_ drunk enough for Gwaine not to react to that other than with a light smile. “Merlin has enough people invading and trying to control his life without me demanding answers too.”

Arthur set down the quill and blew on the ink. “It’s a start.”

“Arthur, why are you pursuing this? Why now?” Gwaine let the concern show, the two men he cared most for needed each other, not to be working _against_ one another.

The prince sighed deeply, “Because he matters, Gwaine, and I don’t think he realises that. He’s been turning up _injured_ , and not saying, and denying anything, blaming unrelated chores, or shrugging it off. Lying about being wasted is one thing, but not telling me about wounds I want to avoid reopening- and the fury from some practices tells me you’ve seen the blood- is dangerous for _all_ of us. I need to know how he’s getting hurt, why he won’t tell me, and who I need to deal with to stop it.”

Gwaine was silent. It actually made sense. The prince’s reluctance to accept it in the future, him trying, badly, to protect Merlin, the odd moods. Wavering between genuine irritation at the man’s _obvious_ lies, and over-protective moments that to others appeared completely random, or (to Gwaine at least) guilt induced. Their friend picked his next words very carefully,

“He always has Princess. So what changed?”

Arthur was silent so long that Gwaine thought he wasn’t going to answer, when he did, it was no admission the man had ever expected to actually _hear_ from the Prince.

 

“I did.”

 

Arthur did not _do_ hugs. Or much that was non-violent, so Gwaine simply placed a hand on his shoulder firmly, letting his presence be felt.

“Merlin told me once, the first time, that you were _worth_ dying for. Now I believe it. Goodnight Sire.”

Gwaine picked up the Merlin-list and put it in the bedside drawer of shame, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.


	21. Deja vu

Merlin couldn’t shake the anxiety, whatever had happened out last time had slightly changed the dynamic between the Prince and Gwaine, they’d spent the past two nights together, which they’d never done before. Not that they’d ever displayed any particular antipathy towards each other off the training field, but this was _different_.   
When he realised the man was going up the second time he had found himself asking what it was about and all Gwaine had said was “Keeping a promise.” Then clasped his shoulder and stared intently at him before adding “Both of them.” He hadn’t really known what to say to that.

It took him until he had finished everything, and made the salves and decoctions for the morning that wouldn’t keep long to stop long enough to remember those.

He hadn’t told either Prince or king of the effect their ordeal had had on Gaius.   
He could still function in his role, certainly, and Merlin _needed_ his knowledge and experience, but it _had_ weakened him, and he’d no doubt that that was enough for Uther to remove Gaius as Court Physician. While he also wouldn’t allow anyone _except_ Gaius to treat him. Nonsense dealing with the king was now just a part of Merlin’s daily life.

It probably was a little abnormal that he felt almost a sense of relief when the odd chill of last night ran through him, he turned round and smiled, noticing that despite the fact she was floating, he was taller than her. “Eileen.” He sat down so that he wasn’t looking towering over her, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

She looked at the bed and stool and frowned. “Of course I came back. Ugh, stupid things.” She grumbled, glaring at the stool.

He raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. “They are like doors. I can’t sit down, and well, it feels awkward to have one of standing and the other not- which is not something I am used to any more.” Merlin thought for a moment. “What about me?”

Eileen looked at him strangely. “What?”

“You can touch me, I can sit down, and you weigh nothing, is there a reason sitting on my lap wouldn’t work? Or is that _too awkward_ for the ghost who wanders unannounced into men’s bedrooms at night?”

“Shut up Merlin. You knew it was me.”

“A surprising number of people say that, but yes I did. You are, so far, the only _returning_ ghost I’ve met.”

She decided to test his theory anyway, it had been a _long_ time, and she seriously doubted anyone else was going to offer the same thing, leaving her a long time to regret turning it down. She couldn’t help smiling brightly when it worked.

He looked at her carefully, “How old are you, Eileen?”

“Fifteen, or thirty-eight, depending on how you count it.”

Merlin huffed, “Wow, yeah, I guess that must get complicated to track. No one to count birthdays.”

“It’s not that bad. I count Samhains instead.They’re easy to notice.”

“Again, _that’s not creepy at all._ ”

“You invited a ghost to sit on your knee.”

“Fair point. It’s been a long day. Well, long week really. So how did your first night of haunting Uther go?”

She grinned. “I figured it would be useful to experiment a bit. Did you know he’s afraid of spiders?”

“That’s… No, no I did not.”

“Yep. Something about a giant one years ago living in a cave, venomous. I thought it was quite pretty.”

“You would.”  
“Did you know that spiders spin silk?”

Merlin chuckled, “No, but I doubt one spider can make enough for a dress, or every woman at court would be farming the things.”

“Oh, absolutely! It feels amazing, the queen used to have one, she let me feel one time.”

“Ok, well I don’t have the space or patience for spider farming, so I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”  
The ghost tilted her head to look at him properly, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little odd, Merlin?”

“All the time. I’m still not the ghost chatting in the bedroom of a man she’s met only once before.”

“I guess so. Anyway, giant spiders, he doesn’t care about blood, I really wish he did, it’s rather upsetting. He doesn’t like the dark closing in. Oh, and you were in his dream.”  
“That is- that is not something I ever wanted to know Eileen.”

“Ew, no. Although he thinks you are _Arthur’s_ anyway.”   
Not the first time he’d the theory but still… “Again, ew, no.”

Eileen shrugged, “Well, each to their own I guess. Arthur’s hot.”

“Eileen, if you ever say those words again in my bedroom I swear I will find a way to ghost-lock the bit of dead tree.”

“Right, well anyway, he was yelling at you for something.”  
Merlin nodded, relieved, “Ok, that sounds more like the Uther I know.”

“He _hates_ dragons.”   
“Not a surprise, they hate him back. Can’t blame them at all.”

“No. Me neither. Did you know that they couldn’t burn the Dragonlords. It doesn’t work. Fireproof you see? At least normal, un-magical fire.”

“Uh… that information is extremely unsettling and more useful that you could possibly know. Or maybe you could, I suppose- where have you _been_ for the last twenty years?” She shrugged.

“Here and there. I avoided the dungeons though, and the vaults. They upset me and I get _ragey_.”

“Yeah, I know that one. Is there anything more than spiders, oppressive darkness, and dragons you can give me to work with?”

“In one night? No. I thought that was pretty good work for my first night!”

Merlin hurriedly tried to reassure the girl, “Oh, yeah, I mean that’s great, I can totally work with this. If you want, you could come one night to dinner when I’m serving, just stand silently in the corner where he can see you, and say _nothing_ you creepy woman. Maybe a feast sometime. He’ll be stuck, as leaving would mean admitting you exist and are there. I mean, if _I_ was a bored ghost, and only one person could see me, I’d be tempted to pester them in company not just when they were alone. Unless someone else takes day shift already.”

Eileen grimaced, “No, most of them are a bit anti-social after so long, and stuffy nobles often don’t make the best company.”  
Merlin shrugged. “Try the knight’s table. There are a few peasanty-common ones there now, and you might overhear a few jokes, or at least gossip. For gossip, try Leon. He’s a noble, but he gossips like an old biddy.”

“Huh. Well, no one has told me any jokes for a long time.”

“Sorry. I can’t think of any right now. Next time maybe.” He realised belatedly that he’s essentially invited the girl back again. Yep. There was definitely something wrong with him. It wasn’t an issue he could ask for advice for though. Gwaine would be insufferable if he asked for jokes suitable to tell a girl. Arthur would look at him, tell him he was an idiot, and that clearly he had too much time on his hands if he was worried about non x-rated jokes, and Percival- well he didn’t think he’d ever _heard_ the man joke. He could possibly ask Lance, but then he’d have to answer questions about why he was entertaining ghosts, and why he wasn’t trying to ghost-proof his chambers. Since he honestly did know all of the answers himself beyond ‘she knows about my magic, and likes it.’ that wasn’t really an option. Plus, Lancelot was already worried about him, and it was getting annoying. He loved Lance, really, he did, but sometimes he appeared to forget that Merlin was a full grown human, who survived insane shit all the time, and it was sometimes just nice to talk to someone who got the fact the world was _bigger_. Which Lancelot… Lancelot still _didn’t_ really.

“Look, you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on, do you remember the way?”  
“Yes, thank you Merlin.” She used his shoulder to steady herself as she stood, it not being a movement she was familiar with after over twenty years out of practice. “You just make sure spiders or dragons crop up tonight, alright?” He winked. This could be fun.   
Sure, he couldn’t actually _kill_ Arthur’s father, and as Gwen had said, that would be kind of the same as Uther’s revenge slaughter, and Merlin had felt terrible after losing control with Nimue. He could screw with him a _little_ bit though, surely? If he was _careful._

Suppressing his grin when a couple of unusually large spiders crawled over Uther’s hand at dinner that evening, and the elaborate web decorated the corners of his chamber doors later was not easy. He was careful to keep it subtle enough that no one could claim sorcery, no matter how tempting it was to have a thousand or so spiders erupt from his goblet. He figured that might be a little too obvious to miss. Even here.

Now he just had to settle on how to work in the dragons.


	22. Meetings

The next night Gwaine didn’t go to Arthur’s chambers, the Prince didn’t let Merlin go early. It was almost the same as before the botched hunting trip and sorceress.

Just… not quite.

The air between them felt different. Merlin could swear he felt Arthur’s eyes on him more frequently, when _he_ wasn’t looking. He told himself it was lingering paranoia and regret, and tried to silence the thoughts with work.

The strangest part was when he had been scrubbing something unnecessarily hard earlier, Arthur’s hand had dropped to his arm, pulling him back. “Stop, Merlin. It’s clean” he’d been frozen for several minutes as Arthur walked away without looking back, as though it was nothing unusual. He muttered a mild healing spell in the corner over his bleeding knuckles where no-one would see.

Nothing obvious had changed, but it _felt_  to Merlin as though it had.

 

Instead, when he did get off, Gwaine turned up at _his_ chambers, sat down calmly and _waited_ as Merlin continued to prepare the necessary remedies for morning, until he finally cracked and turned to face his friend, “WHAT? What is wrong that you have to be here _watching_ , is there something bleeding or oozing, or is the prat looking for me again, because I am _not_ going to the tavern, and I am _not_ some bloody mime for entertainment.”

Gwaine didn’t turn and run, or start relating some wild story. Instead he laughed- quietly, as though it mattered that Gaius was sleeping, “Well, aren’t _we_ dramatic tonight. I think Princess might have a rival. Actually I was just waiting until you were done, you seemed busy, and there was fire involved so…”

“Gwaine, if you don’t explain what’s going on _right now_ I am going to lace your next morning after potion with an emetic.”

He sighed heavily. “Alright. Take _that_ off the heat first, I’ll wait in your room, it’s a bit complicated, and I didn’t want you to be drawing any wrong conclusions.”

“Oi, what if I _need_ my room, or had someone in there?”

“Merlin, you _never_ have anyone in there, and if you _did_ then you wouldn’t be bent over Gaius table smelling of weird herbs and I don’t want to know what.”

“Alright, you’re not wrong there, and I’ve not had a lot of free time lately.”

“How long do you need?” It would be _difficult_ if the girl who _did_ now visit him turned up early.

Gwaine ducked his head, uncharacteristically quiet. “As long as it takes, Merlin.”

That wasn’t good. “You want a drink? It’s not like the stuff Arthur serves, but-”  
“Nah, I’ve got you covered.” He waved a large flagon that Merlin had failed to spot earlier, distracted as he was. “Right, of course you do. So what am _I going to drink?”_ Gwaine chuckled “Knowing you? About half a pint if you want to stay awake.”

Finishing the necessary tidy up he wasn’t far behind the man.

The first time Gwaine had been there he’d been bandaged, after just another tavern fight.

Now he hoped it wasn’t the last time he’d be welcome.

There weren’t many options as far as seating was concerned, as it was never intended to _be_ a bedchamber.  So Gwaine let Merlin choose the bed or the chair, before deciding it was simpler just to have one of the them at each end. “Here,” He handed over the ale, “This isn’t a trick Merlin. What I told you in the forest hasn’t changed. You’re troubled though, that much is obvious, and you are my first friend. Princess and I made an agreement. I kept it, because he did, and that was- that wasn’t easy, for either of us Merlin. I told him what I ran from, what I never looked back to, am still running from really. He gave me something of himself in return.

It seems fair, since you are the only person who ever managed to stop me running, that you are given the answers to that too. Though you'd be the only other to know.   
What I am offering you right now is a choice. It’s not a demand, or an order, it’s not a condition of our friendship. If you refuse, nothing changes, we keep all our secrets, and our questions, and I come when you have a particularly insane idea without asking. So don’t agree to something for the wrong reasons, or think I’m trying to force your hand. Nothing you say here reaches Princess, like nothing the Princess said gets handed to you. I _am_ offering to be a practice run for telling someone the hard things. Or just to listen. Think about it before you answer, alright. That’s the other reason for the weak ale. It’s a decision to make sober.”

“And here I was thinking you advocated for decisions made mead-soaked.”  
“Aye, well, there’s that. Not tonight though, there’s enough nights  left to drown in a barrel.”   
“You know, whatever Arthur’s told you about my girlish habits, heart to hearts aren’t really my thing. Unless y’know, there’s a campfire in the wilds, and the stars are out.”

“Merlin, you don’t even do spill-your-guts talks under a truth spell- and don’t try telling me it wasn’t a very good one, that woman wasn’t a hedge-witch, she had the skill to do it properly.”

He rolled his eyes and grimaced at the ale. It really was _bad_. “Fine. You know what, you’re right. I’ve no idea how to share.”

Gwaine watched as his friend’s face contorted. “Look, you’re conflicted, I get that. So either start small, or go _really_ big, and then everything after that is easier.”

Merlin looked him over thoughtfully, evaluating. Gwaine felt as though he was being dissected.

“You want me to start with a fact?” The knight asked, reaching to take a swig of the ale, unsurprised when he friend nodded.

“Well as so far only myself, you, and the Princess know here in Camelot, I am the son of a noble. As I explained to him extremely recently, that noble happens to be King Caerleon. Making me the king’s bastard, who disowned the man, lived rough from thirteen, and technically would be the closest they have to a legitimate male heir after his only _actual_ legitimate son picked a fight with Princess a few years back. After what he did to my family, and the support he received in it,  I’ve no intention of ever going back.”

He returned the ale to a floundering Merlin

“I hope I didn’t break you mate, I just figured me leading with something bigger might make it less scary. Your turn.”  
“Huh. Yeah, I guess ‘big’ is a fair description of that. Um… do you want a fact that is practical for tonight, or an equivalently misplaced confession?”

“Whatever you are ready to offer.” Merlin looked at him and there really didn’t seem to be a qualification to it. “Ok. I’m expecting a visitor tonight, again, who’s been coming by for… uh, advice and chats.”

“Oh, am I actually interrupting something?”

“No! Well, yes, sort of, but not what you think. That… that would be seriously weird, see, she’s dead.”

“Dead?” Gwaine arched a brow at Merlin.

“Yes.” he said, very matter of factly.

“And is visiting you for chats.”

“And advice, yes.”

“Merlin, you realise how crazy that sounds, right?”

“I really do Gwaine, which is why I haven’t told anyone, but if it makes you feel better, she just got lost on her way to haunt Uther. It's not like she was _looking_ for me or anything.”

“Huh.” Gwaine looked as though he was trying to digest one of cooks punishment buns. “Is she pretty?”

_“What?”_

“Is she pretty? Your dead girl.”

“You know how you said _I_ sounded crazy?...”

“....”

“Yes, ok? She’s pretty, not that it matters, but she’s also kind of too young for me, and too old, and more to the point _undead_.”

“Right. Do you have to leave the door open now?”

“Nooo, she just… sort of… comes through it.” Merlin twitched a little. It sounded surprisingly plausible for Camelot.

“Of course she does.”

Merlin watched as his friend continued as though it was perfectly reasonable for him to have visits from spirits. “Gwaine?”

“Yes Merlin?”

“Your father was really the king?”

Gwaine cocked his head, locking gazes to make sure Merlin was listening before replying.

“No Merlin. I was sired by a king. My _Father_ died fighting the king’s petty battle. One man fucked my mother and I was the result. The other raised me and didn’t treat me any different from bloodkin, knowing damn well what I was.”

“I think… If you.” Merlin closed his eyes and lay back. “Gwaine. I can’t do this, I can’t tell you.” Gwaine nodded, it wasn’t unexpected really, he was about to reach for the ale again when Merlin sat bolt upright and grabbed him, a slightly wild look in his eyes.

“Merlin?”

“I can’t _tell_ you, but maybe- if you want to know where _I_ come from, I could _show_ you instead?”   
Gwaine could feel the tension in the younger man’s frame as he made the offer, waves of nervousness rolling off him.

“Yeah, ok. We can do that if it’s easier.”

Merlin laughed, edging hysteria. “Easier, Oh gods, I’ll have to tell him that when he gets here- there. Gwaine, we have to take a walk!”

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?” He turned away from the door,

“Your boots.”

“My what?”

“You’re not wearing any.”

“Ah, yes, I’m going to need those. Thanks Gwaine.”

He was just hauling the second one on when a chill spread through him, this time, unlike Gwaine, he didn’t shiver. Instead waving between them, “Eileen, this is Gwaine, Gwaine, this is Eileen, my pretty ghost.”

“You _told him?”_

“Well, a little bit, not much. I figured it would be less rude than ignoring you, and letting friends walk _through you_.”

“And he doesn’t think you’re crazy?”

“Oh no, Gwaine’s known for years I’m a little crazy, it’s part of my charm, but fortunately it doesn’t seem to bother him too much.”

Gwaine stared at the empty space that Merlin seemed to be addressing. “Well, lovely to meet you Eileen, a pleasure, I promise I’ll do my best _not_ to walk through you, and I’ll return him just as he is by morning.” He grinned.

“Oh _I see_ , he’s crazy too.”

“Yes. A little. Probably just enough. You know it would be much easier if the whole telepathy thing worked with you.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes, _this_ was exactly why Merlin shouldn’t drink. “Sorry, it doesn’t work on people who are between worlds, our minds are either in two at once or neither quite enough, so no. The old one used to be able to use it, but I never could before anyway.”

Merlin sighed, “That’s inconvenient. Good luck tonight, I just need to show _him_ something, and I can’t do it in the citadel.”

“Oh, well I’ll stop back later. I just wanted to say thank you for helping.”

“You’re welcome Eileen, glad to be of service. Goodnight.”

 

Merlin grabbed Gwaine, pulling him along behind him, knowing that if he stopped to actually _think_ about what he was doing he’d likely lose his nerve.

Fortunately no-one really questioned a knight much, making it easing than it ought to be for them to slip past the guards, Gwaine didn’t comment on how practised Merlin was at it, wondering what he should be preparing himself for. He remained quiet as he followed his friend, no wanting to panic him any further.

 

Nothing could have prepared him for the man striding forcefully into the middle of a large field, throwing his head back, and bellowing in a language that Gwaine was quite certain was supposed to be long dead.

“Sit.” He commanded, without looking back. Gwaine didn’t argue. “Did you bring anything alcoholic with you?”

“Not really, just the last bit of ale I’m afraid, why?”

“Because at least one of us is going to need it. I didn’t exactly warn Kilgarrah I was bringing anyone along, and um.... He can be a bit overwhelming at first. Or ever.”

“Right… Merlin, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that this Kilgarrah is _not_ the Father you lost, and the whole ‘yelling at the sky thing’? There are stories about that, so, can I have dibs on that ale for when, as you put it ‘he arrives’?”

“There are no such stories in Camelot, and there certainly weren’t in Ealdor.” If there had been, Merlin would have devoured them long ago.   
“Must have come as quite a shock then.”

 

A dark shadow covered them and Merlin scrambled to his feet to great his brother. Gwaine, far more cautiously stood, being careful not to place his hand on the sword-hilt.

“Well that certainly explains a lot.”

Merlin leaned his forehead against Kilgarrah’s “I had to tell him.”

“Your choices are your own young warlock, I simply assumed your first would be the king.”

Gwaine hissed something about a prince.“Not that one, idiot. Arthur.”

“Right, well, at least now the pheasants make sense.”  
“Merlin, did he suffer an injury on the way here?”

“No, Kilgarrah, he’s always like that, he means the wyverns.”

“ _That_ young warlock would be a very unfortunate mistake to make indeed. So, are you going to tell me why you summoned me tonight, or must I try and guess from your appearance, because dishevelled doesn’t help much on you.”

“Shut it ‘Garrah, I work _hard_ , as you well know. Plus, whenever I do call you it’s always when I’ve walk for miles to a safe spot, or I’m bleeding out, or the worse for wear after battling serkets- dammit, you know what Gwaine, if you could just forget that part, that’d be great-”

“Still busy absorbing the ‘dragons still exist and my best friend is- wait, you _are_ a Dragonlord, right? Or should I be a _lot_ more concerned right now about being alone with a full grown dragon, when no-one knows we’re here.” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I brought you all the way out here, to a remote spot just to sacrifice you to a dragon no one knows about in the middle of the night, and he just happened to show up all by himself. No loud summoning here.

Yes Gwaine, of course I’m a Dragonlord. The Last dragonlord actually, though no one saw fit to tell me- including _you_ ” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the Great dragon, “so don’t start about Gaius- who my father was, or what, or that it’s an inherited thing until the day before a met him.”

“Days before he died and you became...” Murmured Gwaine.

Merlin stopped short, “Wait, what did you think you were going to do against a half-grown dragon? Or _any_ dragon after it’s learn to flame, without me?”

Gwaine shrugged “I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it. Never had to. I’m figuring in future just shout your name _really loudly_ or offer them the nearest deer?”

“Well, it’s a more promising tactic than waving swords, and is thinking outside the box. For survival chances out of all the knights I’m betting on you, provided you don’t drown in a barrel before your next birthday.”

“No reason to do that now.” It was offered quietly, and the tone took the edge off Merlin’s residual nervousness.

“Would… Would you like to meet him properly, I mean, please, can I introduce you? There’s a lot that I’m not ready to tell you, or talk about, but this isn’t something I can ask of Arthur after everything that passed between them.”

Gwaine pulled him into a quick hug. “I trust you Merlin. I’d be honoured.”

Yes, he was absolutely terrified, if he’d been alone, Gwaine knew this would _not_ have been ok, but he _wasn’t alone_. He was with Merlin. Who had already saved them a bunch of times, and sent away wyverns. The dragon could probably smell fear, and sweat, and sense the lie it was, but for Merlin, he’d kill instincts before monsters. “Come on then.” The shining smile from Merlin was worth it.

“Kilgarrah, this is Gwaine, one of the knight’s of the round table.”  
“Yes, Caerleon’s kin, I see him in you. Strength followed the path to Magic and Courage, I approve, young warlock, he has been a good friend to you indeed, more than you yet know.”   
“Ah, no, not anymore. There was an argument years ago, where I renounced him, blood, rank, all of that; and I’ve met far better people away from that mess. Thank you though, I think.”

“Gwaine, this is Kilgarrah, the Great Dragon, _currently_ the last dragon, and my soul-brother. He is the only remainder of my blood kin, with Hunith. You are the first person I’ve introduced to him, though I regret that we do not speak more often.”

“Brother? Not Lord?”

“It’s complicated. Technically yes, I am Kilgarrah’s Lord and he is Bound to my will. I abused it foolishly once before, before I understood. Not a mistake I would ever make again, we are- a part of each other I guess. Not whole alone. It’s similar with Arthur. I can’t explain it, and don’t ask _this_ _one_ to, he’ll just give you metaphors about two sided coins and destiny and shit, oh- and riddles. Can’t forget the riddles.”

“Huh, I like riddles.” Merlin didn’t notice how wide Gwaine’s eyes had got at the coins part. “So you really never read the books with that sort of _metaphor_ in, Merlin?” He couldn’t shift his eyes from his friend, though he knew he should, before it was noticed. Merlin shrugged, “Gaius didn’t have them, and I can’t exactly go and ask Geoffrey. “No, you definitely _can’t_ do that. Just do me a favour Merlin, and _never_ mention that coin to Geoffrey or in front of Uther.”

Gwaine finally managed to turn towards Kilgarrah and bowed unusually low for _him,_ “Well, Kilgarrah, it has truly been a privilege, and- and _enlightening_. I solemnly give you my oath that I will do everything in my power to protect your Lord, though I believe after knowing him for- did you know him before in the castle- Oh _no_ he didn’t! Oh gods.”  Gwaine groaned, “You will _definitely_ be aware of his penchant for danger, and the challenge in protecting him from _himself_. I’ll do everything I can. One more thing, though I _am_ hesitant about asking any _favours_ from someone like you, but is it true that dragons can heal?”

“It is true, young knight. Ask your ‘favour’.”

“Can you sort out this idiot’s leg, his ribs, and hand, because he thinks I haven’t noticed. Then was making up all sorts of potions, brews, and ointments a to treat half of Camelot’s aches and pains when I turned up tonight, and hasn’t sorted himself out.” Kilgarrah rolled his eyes and huffed smoke. Gwaine wondered if he’d gone to far until the dragon growled, “Merlin, is this true?”

“He’s exaggerating, it’s not that bad.”  
“Merlin?”

“Fine, it was sore. The ribs are almost knit again though, alright, gods you’re such a bunch of worriers, I swear Lancelot is catching.”

“Merlin! Remove your shirt right now!”

He sighed. “Fine.” He caught Gwaine’s shoulder and searched his face, “Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, and this- I can’t tell you what it means to me, but there are things I’m not- not ready for. Please. If you want me to cooperate, turn around, shut your eyes, and I’ll let him heal me, I can’t explain a _lot_ yet.”

Gwaine’s voice was low, and as gentle as he could make it with a massive dragon waiting on them mere feet from him, “Oh I know Merlin, believe me, _I know_ , only ever when you are ready, _if_ you are ever ready. We all carry scars, they signify you survived, even when there is loss. You don’t owe me any explanations. My own favourite, is a long gash I picked up in a bar-fight, met these two crazy men. One’s a complete prat, the other’s a bit of an idiot, it’s a funny story really, I should tell you some time.” He winked and turned his back, “Eyes are shut now, knock yourself out.”

It didn’t take long, Kilgarrah never did.

“Alright Gwaine, you can turn around, sorry for the girly moment, I just-”

“Hey, relax, I mean if you _want_ me to start calling you ‘sweetheart’ I will, but I figured you were just saving your _own_ less fun ordeals for your own nightmares. I mean, you didn’t give away cracked ribs _at all,_ that wasn’t your first time. Honestly the Dragonlord- which if you hadn’t noticed yet are always magical- and still-surviving dragon is going to take me a few days to get my head around- no offence Kilgarrah, really, _please_ don’t be offended.” The dragon snorted smoke at him, and grinned, showing all his teeth. “See, I’m _hoping_ that’s amusement, but you’re my first dragon, so I have nothing to go on.”

“Uhm, don’t worry about ‘Garrah, he’s mellowed out a bit more, he just enjoys messing with humans, and doesn’t get the opportunity often.”

The dragon sighed, “Few humans these days have a sense of humour.”

“Kilgarrah. You are a massive, flying, arrow-proof, dragon the size of several great- halls who has teeth that occasionally give _me_ pause, and breathe incineration-level fire at will. Just be glad they are growing the slightest bit of sense. They drive _me_ demented half the time. Seriously, who takes on a griffin with a normal sword? Half of them are fucking mad.”   
Gwaine watched them bicker in bemusement before reaching out and gripping Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin, I say this to you as a good friend; you are the last person to ever get to call anyone else mad for their approach to attackers and running carelessly into danger. I have blackmail and am not afraid to use it, _and_ on that point, you have a not-tryst to be at very soon with a pretty ghost.”

Kilgarrah perked up a bit, “Is that so? I hope it is not the screaming one.”

“Well, he says she is, and no screaming came up, but I can't see or hear her so…”

“I thought they were still moping.”

Merlin shook his head. “Nope. Actually I think you'd rather approve of their approach these days, though I can't offer details with company.”

“Well then, by all means go see your pretty ghost. Just promise me that any details will not involve your angsty relationship things. I do have limits.”

“Ooh I guarantee you that is not a thing. You pair do know what dead means, right?”

Gwaine smirked, “Apparently not, Merlin. No one ever comes to see _me.”_

“I'll make it a point for someone to do so. They need new jokes, and gossip.”

“She needs to talk to Leon.”

“That's what I said.”

“You're dithering, Merlin.”

“Yeah. I know.” Merlin frowned, wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake, and wishing  that he could fly away like Kilgarrah did. “I don't like watching him fly away. Or feeling it.”

“Young warlock your burden is not easy to bear, but perhaps, it can be shared. Just a little. I would have expected not to be the first thing you shared voluntarily with another, but the gesture does not go unappreciated. Your friend is sincere in his oath, and in his heart. Go home Merlin. I am not your only kin.”

Merlin nodded, and rested a hand against the dragon's snout. “Thank you, old friend.” He looked up to the other creature of the Old religion. “I know now what my name means. If today is a day for speaking long buried truths, thank you, for never telling me _that.”_

 _“_ I _have_ made _many_ mistakes, young one, but I believed it would have been cruel to do so.”

“Destiny always is. You chose well in this, Kilgarrah. Fly high, and fly free.”

The dragon dipped his head, “When you call, I will come, my Lord.”

Merlin chuckled as Kilgarrah took off, shielding his eyes from the dirt thrown by great sweeps of huge wings.

Merlin brushed tears from his eyes as the adrenaline began to wear off and Gwaine pulled him into a hug. “Come on. Never keep a pretty girl waiting. If you are wondering what I am going to tell Arthur about this, it's nothing. I think that they forget we have seen other places. Lived where magi lived peacefully. Some of them. Like non-magic folk some were dicks. It wasn’t because of the magic. If we were caught sneaking out, you went walking and I followed you. Technically not even a lie. I caught up to you in a field. Just like ‘my father is a noble’. Next time you have broken ribs though, tell us. They'll heal faster if you don't ignore them. Same for other injuries. He may not show it, what with being a self centred, emotionally stunted prat, but Arthur cares about you a lot more than you think. I _care_ , and I know Lancelot does. Leon lives in fear of the day you resign, despite your clear intent to remain within ten feet of the Prince at all times.”

 

Merlin’s mind was whirling, he had done it, told someone something, something _real,_ on his terms. “Thank you Gwaine. That was... This is the first time I have ever told anyone deliberately about this _side_ of my life. There are years of _Stuff_ there, and if I bring it all out into the light, I honestly don't know how I would survive it, and that is completely ignoring the probably burning issue.”

“No one is asking you to. Not even the princess. I mean, he is probably screaming it in his head at _all_ of us periodically, but it really does not count unless it's audible. Tragic that. Now, I was wondering if it might just be, given that you have been moving almost noiselessly all this way, that on hunts you have been _deliberately_ scaring away the little fluffy bunnies, and game.”

Merlin looked at Gwaine seriously. “I would absolutely, never, ever do that if meat was needed.”

“Uhuh.” His friend sounded completely unconvinced at the faux innocence  “And if someone had declared in your presence perhaps that killing things was _fun?”_

“Gwaine. Killing things should never, ever be fun I think that the balance would be very unhappy if someone conscious of its existence irresponsibly encouraged such an approach.”

The knight smiled, resting an arm about Merlin’s shoulders, “I don't suppose you would help me win a competition with Princess if I promised to absolutely _not_ enjoy it, even a little bit?”

“Gwaine?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

As they walked the rest of the way in silence Merlin realised that things really were less strained between them, despite the nights revelations, emotional shocks and if he was honest, raw, unadulterated fear at times. Letting someone else hold _him_ up, even if they couldn't _possibly_ carry the weight for him or make the judgements really was _better_ somehow. And he hadn’t had to make himself vulnerable while someone _only_ took.

With Lancelot, there was no _darkness._ No _struggle._ He seemed unable to understand walking the edge of darkness and light and being unsure which one might win. At times even which side of the line he _stood on._ Lancelot looked at Merlin and saw his friend, with integrity and always trying to do the right thing… It was half true but Arthur and Gwaine had seen darkness, and known both. They saw subtleties and complexity where a person could be both in the right _and_ in the _wrong. Knew that fear._ He needed that. He looked at the mentor and saw after Freya how lost a good man could become. Arthur broke something in him and did it to save people, by killing a girl. He never even knew that one _._ Power was a gift, and a curse, and the more powerful he became, without trying to, the more he felt it.

The two men entered the castle and split, heading in different directions, as Gwaine made his way to the knights quarters. He _hoped,_ more than expected that tonight might encourage Merlin to begin to open up a little. He’d noticed the toll things were taking on him, the melancholy that showed a little more often. Whatever Merlin was doing here it posed no danger to Arthur, the man had literally said that he was not _whole_ without him. Another might have thought Gwen should be informed. Merlin hadn't called him on the odd aside to Kilgarrah, likely putting it down to the shock of being introduced to a massive dragon and yes, that had been a shock. In all of Gwaine's many theories, last Dragon Lord hadn't cropped up.

It wasn't; because Gwaine's years travelling had not been wasted, despite the fact that he often had been. Gwaine had seen other lands and heard other stories. From certain groups that he carefully didn't remember the location of, he heard _prophecies._

That Merlin didn't know them despite all of Gaius books, the library, and the lore seemed not coincidental given how _well known_ they were, throughout the five kingdoms and further afield. Someone had gone out of their way to avoid him finding them, and Gwaine _really_ wanted to know _why._

Arthur was right. He desperately needed to practise patience... and apparently not enjoying killing fluffy bunnies.

 

Merlin walked back to his room far slower than usual, as everything began to sink in, from Gwaine being essential a reluctant prince in exile, to Kilgarrah trying to be kind by withholding information, to Gwaine angrily demanding he let the dragon heal him, and voluntarily talking to a ghost he couldn’t see.

He wasn’t home for long before Eileen came to see him, dozing, unable to let go completely.

“Merlin?” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, ‘Come in,” he mumbled, and she did, looking concerned, “Are you ok?”

“Long night is all. How was yours?”

She frowned deeply, “He is afraid of his wife Merlin. Why would he be afraid of his wife?”

Merlin groaned. “ _That_ is a very long story, that I only know part of, and I am too tired to explain right now.”

“I can come back tomorrow instead?”

“S’ok, Eileen. ‘S’nice to not be alone.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to count, Merlin.”  
“You’re here aren’t you?” She nodded.

“Then you count. It’s ’simple.”  
“Is it indeed?”   
“Yep. Talk to me.”   
“Alright. The annoying man is going to go and join in the council meeting this afternoon. He says I can go listen to the knight’s but that they’re boring. I don’t think _your_ knight is boring. He was nice to me, even if he wasn’t sure I’m real.”

Merlin smiled. “Gwaine is many things, but he is definitely not boring.”

“Does he tell jokes.”

“Not ones suitable for fifteen year olds.”

She giggled, “I’m unshockable. You wouldn’t believe what some people do in cellars and alcoves!”

“Eileen, I’m a servant. We’re practically invisible, I really, really would.”

“Where were you taking him tonight?”

Merlin sighed, waving an uncoordinated hand at her, “Too many questions for so late, I took him to see an old friend. A very, very _old_ friend. It was a terrible idea, he’ll ask for a ride and they’ll team up against me.”

His ghost was quiet when he finished.

“Was it worth it?”

“I think… I think it might just be. If I can get through the next few days, yeah, I think it might actually be ok.”

He smiled softly and the girl returned it, “I hope so, Merlin. Sleep now.” He tried to answer but the message was lost as he finally slipped fully into a deeper sleep than he had in months.


	23. Chapter 23

While Merlin slept, Gwaine found that he couldn't. He really had to, else Arthur would pulverise him the next morning at training, but there were so many things whirling in his mind at that moment. Not only what Merlin had shown him either, though that had been rather overwhelming.

Gaius had been a physician all his life. A _literate_ physician. He let Merlin learn foreign languages, had known his parentage and kept it from him.

Clearly he was willing to stay quiet about important things. In the years that Gwaine had been absent from Camelot, Gaius had aged visibly. Merlin and Arthur either had not noticed, or were ignoring it, but as a man  got older, his mind and memory could be compromised. Waiting for long carried a genuine risk of Gaius misremembering details. There was still a question though of how much Merlin had told the man. Like whether he had mentioned the sides of the coin. Or that other thing. Like having a second name, because he did _not_ have a family name, Gwaine knew that much, and he didn’t know the name of Merlin’s father so couldn’t help with that, or tracing it.

It was worrying.

Second names offered by dragons were never a _good_ thing. Special, yes, but when linked to the world ‘destiny’, well, that sent a shiver down even _Gwaine’s_ spine.

 Arthur seemed to be unaware of the missing sections of their library, but even if he was willing to listen, which Gwaine doubted as _lasting_ change was slow, it could not be approached or remedied while Uther lived. Why hadn't Arthur visited other courts and seen? He should have. For the meat market of Kings kids if nothing else. Yes Uther was powerful, but he wasn't the only one, and in the east the threat of the angles and saxons was growing. Separately the smaller kingdoms could not triumph they needed to unite. Or at least suspend hostilities. When he said he liked small odds he wasn't joking, but they really were getting to be more on the edge than even _he_ was comfortable being.

Did that influence the prophecies? Did the prophecies influence the opposition. Hell, had their rivals heard them? Gods he hated being this part of himself sometimes. This was why he left the past alone and lived so much in the present, well, one of the many reasons.

 He absolutely could not tell Arthur, or hint to him, or any of that, else Merlin would never say anything to anyone again. Which was a far more horrifying thought than that he’d had a conversation with a fucking massive dragon in the middle of the night and even requested his help.

Merlin was a Dragon Lord. Which covered several of the odd things, such as sneaking out at night, the apparent adrenaline junkie streak, not being terrified of wild magical beasts on sight- instead waiting for them to _act_ in a threatening manner. Gwaine had been working for quite some time on the assumption that he was at least a bit magic.

One of them had to be… He _knew_ it wasn’t Arthur, or Leon, Lancelot was out, being far too sensible to come and live in Camelot with magic, Percival might easily have been, and Elyan wouldn’t put Gwen in that sort of danger. Essentially that left Merlin and Percy. Some of the less savoury characters he’d met on travels insisted that Camelot had begun using magic again, but only for the King’s household, because- well, as Arthur had said, the Questing beast was fatal _except that one time_ , and then there was the dragon. Surely the Purge couldn’t have removed _everyone_ with a basic of understanding of how magic worked, could it? If some of the _Court_ understood, it was placing Arthur in danger, not that Merlin could possibly realise that, but Gwaine had seen inside courts before. Holding something over the Lord, or the prince, or the _king_ was considered common sense. Basic insurance. Either they truly _were_ all such fools, or Princess was aware and not broaching it, or worse he was _unaware_ and leaving himself open in ignorance. If no one _inside_ Camelot intended to try and manipulate him with this, then certainly foreign dignitaries would. Arthur would be framed as either a hypocrite, or as ignorant of the whole aspect of their world, a weakness to be taken advantage of.  What the hell was he supposed to do now?  
Theoretically he could try and explain to Merlin, but he rather suspected his friend would act first, think later at the phrase ‘possible danger to Arthur’.

Which would put _Merlin_ in danger. Unacceptable.

Fuck.

 He _really_ missed having plausible deniability.

 If he turned up in the library, the chances were that Geoffrey would keel over and die of a heart attack. Maybe he could _sneak_ in? Or go ‘dragged along’ by Merlin.

Who had no idea that any of the Great Dragon’s ‘riddles’ held significance to others.

He really, really wanted to be wrong about _everything_ … but Morgana was making it a lot harder to convince himself of that.

No wonder the man had nightmares.

And no, he hadn’t completely missed the points about ‘bleeding out’, and ‘serket attack’, no one survived a serket long enough to get help. Or a sting. Even _he_ couldn’t think when Merlin would have been so badly injured that way, and he _knew_ the man had been poisoned more than once. The permanent neckie in all weathers was bloody suspicious as far as Gwaine was concerned (who kept his hair long for a reason beyond vanity about his awesome hair).

The sun was rising by the time Gwaine managed to switch off enough to sleep.

He was late to practice, but one look at his face told Arthur it wasn’t because of some tavern piss-up or _entertaining_ overnight. The man looked positively haunted, which given how easily he had taken _their_ conversations was not good.

That Merlin had arrived looking as though he’d just taken some powerful stimulants did not bode well for his day.

\------------------------

The morning had been fine, after the waking up part. _That_ had been quite experience, as Merlin had been poked awake with _just_ enough time to get to work, to find a _different_ transparent face inches from his face, screamed like a girl, and shot out of the bed. Whereupon the apparently less _sweet_ ghost with a grizzled beard had effectively fallen about, pissing himself laughing at Merlin. Who thought it was far less amusing.

“Who are you, What- what are you even _doing_ here, I mean I know how you got in, but I’m not some bizarre form of entertainment for you lot- I’m assuming here that you are one of Eileen’s cohorts, because if you aren’t that would be a bloody weird coincidence.”

When he finally stopped laughing and righted himself, the _new_ ghost waved a hand at him, “Of course I am, don’t be an actual idiot. It would be too strange if you were when you look so like him. No, she just had to go, and didn’t want to leave you alone, thought you could use a timely introduction to the day. Something gentle.” He rolled his eyes, still too tender hearted, that one.

“Right. So _you_ went with the ‘unexpected ghost face inches from his face’ technique? And he tells _me_ not to be an idiot” muttered Merlin.

“Well yes, were you hoping for your employer storming in yelling about armour? That would be a bit odd you know.”

“Odd. You know what, I don’t- I don’t have time for this right now.” He began raking for a clean tunic, “Is this a new hobby for you guys or something? I feel like I should have been consulted about that sort of thing.”

“No, no, I just thought it was better than turning up without warning at the council meeting and trying to deal with you _and_ Uther at once.”

“I can see why that might _seem_ like a good idea if you haven’t needed sleep for twenty years, but really, next time don’t.”

“You didn’t mind _Eileen_ dropping in unannounced.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I’m leaving now. Stay or go, I honestly don’t care at this point. It can wait, but don’t expect conversation while I’m working, the lot of you, and _please_ , don’t try and imply anything indiscreet. I don’t think ‘we’re just too different’ quite covers it, and if I _was_ going to go bending the life/ death divide that way, she’d have Freya to deal with first. See you later. I’m going to talk to the sane people…. And goddess I never thought I be saying _that_ about the Prat and the knights. Scare Gaius and I will bring you back to kill you again.”

“Have a good day a work then Sweetie.” Smiled his visitor.  
Merlin slammed the door with a growl and ran to the Princes chambers.

Between being woken by the unhelpful dead man, and introducing Gwaine to Kilgarrah last night Merlin knew that he was missing ‘normal’ by about two full miles this morning, and judging by Arthur’s confused looks _he_ knew it too. They made it to the end of training, once the knights had left before the Prince brought it up.

“Merlin, I know it’s been a _difficult_ week for everyone but really, are you suffering from a head injury? Or the wrong mushrooms at breakfast. You’re even _less_ efficient than usual- which by the way is quite an achievement- and somehow also have the same nervous energy as the hunting dog pups when they know they are due some exercise.”

“Long night, and a really _weird_ way of being woken up sire.”

“I wish I hadn't asked.”

“Next time I won't answer then.” Merlin shrugged. Arthur couldn't help noticing that his gaze kept drifting towards Gwaine, and the frown when the Knight looked so troubled. He hoped the two weren't linked. That promised to make his life a lot harder.

He tried again, “You’re not sick are you?”

“Why would you think that sire?” Arthur scrambled for a reasonable answer, because princes did not worry about their servant like that.

“You said long night, you've been helping Gaius, don't physicians pick up a lot of things?”

Merlin looked at him oddly, they did actually, but mostly just continued working and eventually built up an immunity.

“I've been helping Gaius for _years_ Arthur, I've had most of the common things already.”

“Oh.” Arthur didn't really remember Merlin taking time off sick. Injured on hunts, yes, poisoned _certainly,_ and apparently being _not at_ the tavern, but Gaius wouldn't have lied about a sickness the Prince could have contracted from his sick servant. Merlin was talking again, no, Merlin was doing the thing again where he said a great deal and nothing at the same time.

“.... And that's why I think that next tournament you should compete dressed as a giant pheasant, it would be easy to collect enough feathers if… “

“Merlin! What in the name of all Camelot are you blithering about now?”

His servant grinned manically, “Ah good, you're back with us again. Which is excellent timing as there is a council meeting this afternoon and not much time to get ready for it.”

Arthur groaned as Merlin mentally continued to himself ‘and you _really_ need to be at this one as a sarcastic bastard of a ghost intends to take part in order to piss off your psychotic father, who had him executed a long time ago.’

 It matched the groan Merlin let out as he entered the council chambers to see the _new_ ghost standing behind Uther, looking not quite malevolent, but very much the way a happy cat might who is playing with a mouse.   
Glaring at him was a bad idea, because if Uther _caught_ him, he’d- well, _catch_ him.  
So in addition to the usual bucolic Lords assembled, generally irritating remarks about peasants, _and_ keeping the Prat awake through a droning report that Merlin thought would be better used as part of Gaius anaesthetic kit, this afternoon he was required to listen to the ghosts asides and give _no reaction at all_.

“My, it’s been a long time since we did _this_ Uther.”

“Remember that time you refused to start because we were held up?”

“Careful with that wine, Sire, looks as though you’re developing a bit of a tremor.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, you _know_ scowling that way causes frown lines.”

When his hands tightened again into fists, “Huh, still got a thing for leather? I always meant to ask, but it never seemed like the right time. Probably was _before_ you had me executed right enough.”

“I’ve missed this. Oh, but hasn’t Lord Pye started to look even _more_ like a pig than he did then? Never mind, he was never much to look at after the unfortunate shield-incident.”

“Did you know that there are fifty six stones in that wall? It’s funny, but I can’t actually remember which one in here I used to hide things behind.”

“Uther. I don’t want to alarm you, but there are three, quite large spiders that have just fallen onto the table. I’d remove them, but y’know, being dead makes that quite the challenge.”

“Uh- Uther, is Arthur _meant_ to be writing his own reply to that marriage proposal, never mind I- I think they’ve withdrawn it.”

By the end of it Merlin was quite willing to throttle the lot of them, it was like watching _children_ . Except the children were being looked after by _Uther Pendragon_ , Arthur  on a bad day, and a dead guy with an axe to grind. Oops. Yeah, maybe best not mention axes to anyone who’s been executed.

Uther practically _fled_ as soon as the most necessary business was concluded, followed by the mocking tones of his ex- council member “Oh, but darling, we haven’t even had the _good_ wine yet!” He lasted until the hurried footfalls faded away before finally giving in to the laughter,

“Oh my goddess, I haven’t had that much fun in _years_ Emrys. Please, _please_ describe the look on Uther’s face to Kilgarrah next time. I’d far rather the man was _removed_ from the earth, but it feels good to get back at him even the tiniest bit.” Merlin froze, turning back to the, currently rather annoying spirit, and stepped into his space.

“Wait. Stop. You know his name. You know _our names_.”   
“Sorry,  _Merlin_ , I know, and don’t think that over by the way.”

“Well yes, but that really wasn’t my point, you know _his_ name. How? Why?”

“Well I guarded him nigh twenty years, but mostly, I’d be a pretty lousy Dragonlord if I didn’t even use their names, don’t you think?”

“WHAT?!” The blood drained from his face, as Merlin briefly lost the tight rein on his magic and every glass in the room shattered.  
“Don’t worry,” said the ghost calmly, “The mad king’ll blame _me_ for that, you’re good.”

 “OH! OH, THIS IS SO _NOT OVER!_ Don’t you dare try and take over _her_ shift just because you were… this,” He waved between them both,  “But we are going to fucking _Talk_ later.”

Arthur was so used to Merlin being in step or just one behind him, following everywhere, he’d assumed he’d be there, especially when council had been so _weird_.   
So it came as a surprise to realise he wasn’t, and backtracking he overheard something about names, no response, and his servant shrieking. Except opening the door in concern, he found his servant surrounded by shards of glass, glaring at an empty space as though he wanted to incinerate something (Oh, please let nothing catch fire. It was Camelot. These things happened.)

“Uh, Merlin.”

“Don’t ask, really, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” Arthur used the same tone he had at the campfire when he spoke to them all about consequences.  
Merlin looked cautiously at the prince, terror churning in his gut, but remembering last night with Gwaine. He couldn’t _trust_ Arthur, not yet, but he had to at least start giving him the _chance_ to surprise him.

“Ok. I was woken by the wrong ghost, and he’s been an asshole today, but knows some things that I am extremely uncomfortable about. I was yelling at him because of a combination of those factors.”

“And the glass?”

“It exploded.” Not actually untrue. Like ‘son of a noble’, he repeated to himself.

“Sometime I worry about you Merlin.” Arthur shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
“I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

Arthur looked away so that Merlin wouldn’t see him close his eyes.

“I said I worry about you Merlin, not that I didn’t believe you. Now shut up, never mention this again, and go polish my armour.”

Jumping up to obey, completely stunned, Merlin hurried away.

Arthur glared around the room for good measure, despite being unable to see anyone, and assuming volume didn’t make a huge difference to ghosts growled under his breath, “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

He had no idea if ghosts, _if they were real_ actually _could_ harm someone, but it couldn’t hurt to warn any possible ones off.

Lachlan smiled to himself, a warm satisfied feeling, long dormant awakening, _there_ went the Once and Future king. Even if he didn’t yet know it.

Stalking out of the chamber, Arthur was swift to close the distance between them and remedy the unnatural way Merlin was walking in front of him. Ignoring the fact that he had just voluntarily engaged with the potentially supernatural on the basis of _but it’s Merlin._

A terrible basis for any decision really.  
After a great deal of consideration Arthur had come to the conclusion that if he ever wanted Merlin to begin confiding in or trusting him, the best way of working out when he was being honest, and when he was lying, was to listen to it _all. Wh_ enever he offered.

He’d seen Merlin’s appraisal, the flash of fear in his eyes. It was a bizarre tale, but so far it carried all the hallmarks of authenticity he’d identified. Gwaine had suggested catching friends when they leapt, and then leap he _had._ Though there were years more secrets and hidden things there, it felt like the beginning of something.

He remembered Geoffrey years ago attempting to tutor him saying ‘Rome wasn't built in a day’.

He’d smirked and retorted ‘Rome fell.’ Smugly.

The archivist looked at him seriously, undeterred, and answered him simply.

“Aye, but we _still_ remember their names.” Sending him away to read ‘The art of war’ and ‘ _De re militari’_.

It stuck with him. Eventually every kingdom fell. To war, or wear and weather. In centuries to come though; would people remember his _name?_ Would he want them to?   
He’d come to the conclusion that it would depend on how he ruled and what they remembered. Some men stuck in history for their cruelty. Fewer for their ability to lead men well. To raise up their people as a whole.

He _wanted_ to be one of the second.

It had been truly frightening the day he realised how close he had been to becoming the first. Were he to fail, he thought it would be kinder of history to forget him.

 

He had no idea why, given that when they had met, Arthur had threatened and pursued Merlin with a mace, but his servant was convinced that he could succeed. When Merlin _believed_ something it was surprisingly difficult to disbelieve it. Arthur could do it. Had done. What puzzled him, and others he knew, was that it was against one's instincts. The bone deep, survival type seemed to share a bizarre link to Merlin. Obviously also to madness.   
People _changed_ around him.   
Guinivere had become more confident than she had been in all the twelve years of being Morgana’s servant. Gwaine stopped running. Leon started to truly challenge Arthur and help refine him as a warrior.

Arthur himself had changed more than any of them. Unless one counted Merlin. When he thought about it Merlin _had_ changed as much as himself, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was more serious; not necessarily a bad thing, but he was somehow _sadder_ too, as though some of his natural joy was missing.   
Not all the time, but more disturbingly, he was realising, the sadness was more visible when he thought they were not looking.

Why?  
It would have to wait. He had reports to finish, so much more paperwork since retaking Camelot. Merlin was quiet, but it wasn’t the tense, uneasy silence of before, but the kind that felt as though a man was deliberating and trying to make a decision that held significance. The kind he knew better now than to interrupt. It wasn't even _that_ long ago that he would not have believed that a ‘mere peasant’ could have truly important decisions to make. Ones that seemed important to _them_ maybe, but not that affected them all, the rest of the kingdom, or _his_ choices.

Not _really._

 The possibility that they might was radical, and frightening, but was ignoring the possibility not more dangerous?  
\------------------------------------------------------

Gwaine gave up after dinner that night. If he could find out the name of Merlin’s father it would give him a starting point. They could destroy the almanacs, the instructions for rituals, but he doubted they'd fully manage to erase birth records. Merlin’s name would be missing obviously, or he'd not still be breathing, but not his _entire_ family, provided someone in Camelot remained sane. All evidence to the contrary aside. He just needed the time. Merlin had been casting questioning looks his way all day, as though uncertain of his decision. Wondering if he had made a terrible mistake. Gwaine didn't make promises to his friends that he couldn't keep.

Or to dragons.

 Dinner had been _interesting._ A girl who looked as though she was made of mist leaned over his shoulder and he shivered. He was confused for all of a minute until she asked him a simple question. “Which one is Sir Leon the Gossip.”

Everyone knew Leon, First Knight. Everyone _alive_ knew Leon. “That one. You're prettier than he said,” Gwaine winked, speaking under his breath. He hadn’t seen her when she presumably spoke to Merlin. She nodded appreciation and went over to stand behind Leon, where she faded from his view.

No wonder Merlin seemed odd sometimes.

Merlin was relieved to see no creepy ex - dragonlords at the meal, but caught the slightly unnerved look on Gwaine’s face. They needed to Talk as much as he and the Dead Guy did.

There were _not enough_ hours in his day for everything he had to do.

When he saw Merlin looking, Gwaine had smiled reassuringly, but he knew it was insufficient. Unfortunately he also knew that the Prince was likely to be watching.

He was right. The man caught him as he was leaving to summon him to a private meeting on the morrow. After Merlin was assigned chores, and before he needed to help get Arthur into his armour for training. Intentional. Also eating into his own time to investigate.  
Which would be so much easier if he had ever been in the library or archives more than once.

He kept his answer to a neutral “Yes Sire.”

Though that in itself was unusual enough to alarm Arthur. No ‘princess‘, no sarcasm, no irritation.

 

Arthur kept Merlin late that night, but not _unusually_ so. If Gwaine had to guess, enough to demonstrate he wasn’t being cast out, and Arthur wasn’t spending the night only with others, though those nights would come. They could _try_ having everyone open and divulge things at once, but then they would _all_ be raw, and even _Uther_ would catch on to something being strange. Probably start yelling sorcery, as he was prone to do, and that was the _optimistic_ reaction if it occurred _within_ Camelot. Out on a quest, alone, just _them_ was different, and the idea was still intimidating.

Gwaine was waiting for him in the Physician’s quarters, with food he’d wheedled from a generous kitchen maid, and decent mead tonight. The initial choice had to be made by Merlin without alcohol to blame.

With Arthur it was different.

It always was. Arthur exploded outwards. Merlin was breakable. Not in a girlish way, at all. In the way that he refused to burden _anyone_ else and insisted on taking on _everything_ without sharing when he was damaged. He’d fought in battles with immortal warriors. Apparently battled serkets- and no-one had known about that one- without complaint.

Not _serious_ ones anyway.

The Last Dragonlord had been hiding for a great deal of his life, and it would be far more natural for him to continue that than to speak to one of them, especially if he thought Gwaine rejected him for it.

The night would be tricky. There was a ripple of cold before Merlin got home, and Gwaine opened the mead, raising a cup to the ‘empty’ room, “Evening. I really hope you are the pretty one.”. Maybe he’d finally cracked. Been in Camelot long enough? No, he still noticed that there were a whole _lot_ of things that just didn’t quite _fit._

It was too late now anyway. Merlin stumbled as he came in, prompting Gaius to look out of his own chamber, his eyebrow climbing as he saw Gwaine sitting. “I’ll take tonight, my boy. It looks like you have company.”

Merlin groaned. “Right. Yes, because the day hasn’t been taxing enough.”

“I brought you chicken? Some roast potatoes, cold but still good, and there’s decent mead. Figured I’d drop the tart if I tried to bring it, and uh… people would talk. Bringing meat is somehow less suspicious, goddess knows how.”

“ _Gwaine!_ You _can’t_ mention Her name here, the” he dropped his voice to barely more than a hiss, “ _Old Religion_ is _illegal!”_  Gwaine looked towards the door, moving to shut and bolt it, returning quietly to the table, “So are you. If I recall correctly, it’s rather non-optional for you to acknowledge. This is _your_ home, thus _Her_.”

“Uhm… yeah, it’s not really a choice for me as such.”

Gaius eyes widened at the exchange, “Well, I can see you boys have a lot to talk about, I’ll be very deeply asleep if anyone needs me.”

“Goodnight Gaius.” Gwaine called, not looking at him. Not really trusting himself to hold back if he did.

“Goodnight Sir Gwaine. Merlin. Do try to keep the noise down.”

Merlin blushed to the tips of his ears. That was… interesting, thought Gwaine, but very definitely not why he was here tonight.

The door to the old physician’s room closed and Merlin smiled, “Thanks for the food. There wasn’t much of a chance for eating today.”

Well _that_ was something that he _could_ pass on to Arthur.

“Why were you looking at me like that today?”

“Like what?” Merlin’s confusion was clear.

“Like you’d made a mistake and regretted it.”

Merlin sighed, “Because I did. Regret it I mean. Not- not all of the time, it wasn’t a _mistake,_ I just, I’ve not done this before and it’s a big risk.”

Gwaine shook his head, smiling wryly, “Merlin, you take risks _all the time_. Even waking up in Camelot on a daily basis is basically a life and death choice for you.”

“Well yeah, but that’s one I’ve always had, it never been _safe_ to wake up anywhere.”

“Huh. Sooo _before_ Camelot then.”

“Not yet, Gwaine. Not now. I’ve never taken a risk like _this_ before.”

“Ah. _I’m_ the risk.” He grimaced, it wasn’t personal at least, he knew that.

Merlin couldn’t look at him. “Yeah. You’re the risk. I can control _myself_ . My actions, my mouth- apparently not as well with you now I’ve taken that step- but I’ve no control, or influence over you. You are a wildcard, one that could save or condemn me. That you are my friend doesn’t stop me having doubts. This is a first for me. It’s weird that you know things about _magic_ and- and other _abilities_ after I’ve spent years in Camelot.”

“Merlin. I met the allegedly dead Great Dragon last night, who as it turns out is very much _alive_ , and haven’t breathed a word to anyone. I’d rather run _with_ you than see you dead for your birthright. Speaking of, I’m fairly certain you have other company. Would’ve been nice to have a heads up about the girl at dinner though.” Merlin looked confused.

“Prettier than you said.” Gwaine levelled a look at him.

Then it made sense, “Oh? Oh! You said no one ever visits you. She didn’t say she was coming today.”

“Well, let’s just say I’m convinced Eileen’s real.” He smiled, enjoying the rare opportunity to surprise his friend.

“Sorry about that.”

Gwaine chuckled “Don’t be. Besides, she wasn’t looking for me, only ‘Sir Leon the Gossip’.”

Merlin laughed at that. “I wish I could tell him that.”

“Aye, but maybe not _just_ yet. Go on then, see what’s waiting for you tonight.”

Merlin took a deep breath, Gwaine was right, opening the door to his room, he groaned,  “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Except that they are _both_ in there.”

“Both. As in _more than one._ ”

“That is the conventional use of ‘both’.”

“Aye, no, I see that, just…. Merlin. Are you _collecting_ chatty ghosts?”

“Gods I hope not, one was enough, two is troublesome.”

“Here. Have mead.”

“Thanks Gwaine. Oh, and just to make it _more fun_. One of them was like… like my dad.”

“Ah. Well, what are you waiting in the doorway for? Get in already. We can talk later, I'm not going anywhere.”

“I noticed.”

“Good. You were supposed to, I was beginning to wonder if I was being too subtle.”

“Gwaine? Shut up.”

“You, and you.”

He pointed to each of them. “Eileen, lovely to see you again. Next time you want to talk to my friends, ask me first. I don't want to be mopping up their over reactions.”

“You. Stick to my enemies and people who actually _earn_ haunting. Leave my friends, and anyone I need to not piss off-except Uther - alone.”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe, “I take it that's the guy?”

“He woke me up. Oh, Eileen, try waking Uther tomorrow morning, leaning inches from his face. It's extremely creepy. He won't like it.”

“Excellent. Thanks Merlin.”

“No problem. See you later. Maybe not before morning though if you want to wake up your hauntee.”

“Bye Merlin.”

He smiled softly, “Goodnight Eileen.”

Gwaine felt the cold ripple as she left. “Goodnight milady.”

 “You! What the hell was that earlier? And where have you _been_ for the last twenty years? You said I looked like ‘him’, which him? When the hell did Uther have one of you - us on the council? And by the goddess, _why_ when this happened to me did you not turn up _then?_ When I became this, and having someone just might have been fucking useful! _”_

“Are you sure you want to have _a knight_ here right now?”

Merlin shrugged.  “It's not like he can hear your side anyway, and it’s Gwaine.”

 “Look, Merlin, I am going to take a walk, it sounds like something you are going to want to process yourself first. You know where my rooms are if you do want company mate.”

Gwaine clapped Merlin on the shoulder and left the mead.

“He’s a wise man, your friend.”

Merlin laughed freely at that. “That may be the first, and potentially last Time anyone has ever used that word to describe Gwaine.”

The old ghost’s gaze was piercing. “Sir Gwaine. Unusual name that.”

“I guess?”

“Shall we start with the easy ones then?’ Him’, well, Balinor, obviously, in his youth anyway. Bright young man, stubborn, a pain in the arse to teach but a good heart and brave as they come.” Merlin’s smile was a little more watery than he'd like.

“Sounds like I got _something_ of him then.”

The Dragonlord shook his head sadly, “I failed in my responsibility to my kin during life. It seemed right that if Kilgarrah was deprived of both his freedom, and the choice to follow the others, someone should stay near him. Then you came and to start with your ‘distractions’ were so bad I wondered if you _wanted_ to be caught. When Kilgarrah was freed it was a _shock_ of sorts, and if I am honest, I assumed that Balinor had explained such things to you. Even if he hadn't, you have stayed with Gaius from the beginning. He knew who sired you, what you would become. Why else would you be sent to _him?”_

 

Merlin clenched his hands into fists to hide their trembling, “Why would you think that?”

The ghost looked troubled and pressed his lips into a thin line, “What did you _think_ was the reason?”

“I just needed to be away from Ealdor, get some guidance to control my magic. You thought I knew?”

“Of course I _did_. I'm _dead_ , not _soulless._ ”

Merlin dropped his eyes, he still hadn’t spoken to anyone who had _known Balinor_ about any of it. “I didn't. No one said anything about my father until we were packing to go and find him.”

The ghost sighed heavily, nodding as though something that puzzled him finally made sense. “Have a seat Merlin. Your father was Lord Balinor, your bloodline pre-eminent among us, but more importantly he was a good student to me personally, and a better friend. You can call me Lachlan, it’ll help to keep your spirits organised. So, what do you want to know? Ask it, and I will answer if I can.”

It was a long time before Merlin made his way down to Gwaine’s chamber, shaking and nauseous. When he tried the door though it opened, and Merlin _knew_ those of the round table always locked their doors.

His friend sat up sleepily, pushing hair out of his eyes, “You _idiot!_ What were you thinking, asleep with the door unlocked? I could have been _anyone!_ What if I had an assassin? Or- or a sidhe looking for souls.”

“But you weren’t, and you’re worth the risk. Anyway, something that can steal souls probably isn't intimidated by locks.”

“Yeah. I - probably not.”

“No offence mate, but you look like shit.” Merlin choked on an half laugh-half sob.

“Yeah. I probably do. Uh… Gwaine?”

“Yes Merlin?”

“Thanks for leaving, and letting me do that alone. You were right.”

“I keep saying that, and they never do believe me.”

“Gwaine”

“Aye?”

“I think I need company tonight or I'm going to do something very, very stupid before morning.” His friend nodded calmly, he should have run, thought Merlin.

He knew his eyes were sparking with gold, that the weight of being _Emrys_ was evident there right now. Not many men would face him right now with “You look like shit.”

“You want a hug with that company?”

“Yeah Gwaine. I really, really do.”

The not quite so secret anymore noble threw back the blankets. “Come on then. Princess won't go easier on me in training for turning up tired. “I know. Sorry Gwaine. I know this is - this isn't what you expected. “

“Never be sorry for being who you are Merlin, or what you are. There's already enough folk ready to condemn anyone different from themselves without us doing it for them. Admittedly the ghosts of our pasts are usually a little less literal than yours, but I don't regret a thing Merlin.”

“Most grown men also don't request hugs.”

“Then they're missing out on the practicality of sharing body heat, as well as the value of a hug. Cheaper than healers and safer than being alone. Could be the knights have taken too many blows to the head of course.”

“Aye. It's probably that. What do you do Gwaine when everything you were sure of is in flux?”

“Me? I ran. I don't recommend that life. Stopped when I found something I was sure of, despite the anomalies.”

“Camelot?”

Gwaine rolled his eyes at the idiot, “You, Merlin. An’ you're gonna tell me what brought you here scared what you'd do, but we _both_ have work in a few hours, if that. So right now you're gonna shut your eyes, and rest next to me as best as you can, so that when you do tell me, I'm awake enough to listen. Exception applies to wake me up _before_ any insanity, whatever it is you need.”

Merlin didn’t sleep, but tonight not being alone with his thoughts was too important. The solid weight of Gwaine next to him reminded him to breathe, and that he wasn’t alone any more.

Not unless he chose to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went rather sideways, it's been a tricky week irl.


	24. Chapter 24

 

The sun wasn’t long up, but it still signalled the beginning of the working day for most servants.

Merlin had finally managed to get an hour or two’ s disturbed sleep. He’d still woken up once to Gwaine holding him down so that he wouldn’t launch out of the bed, making soothing noises, notably  _ not _ telling him it was ok, or ‘just a dream’. He was grateful for that amongst his embarrassment at the indignity. Gwaine had shrugged off his apologies and gone back to sleep. It was easier after that, knowing that he wouldn’t be held to account or questioned about nightmares. It was approaching the time that Merlin usually began delivering early morning medications, and he was stuck. Gwaine had said to wake him for pre-insanity, did this count? The problem was solved for him when he saw brown eyes staring back. “Give me five minutes to look and smell decent. Are you going off to  _ do  _ the crazy thing, or d’you want me to make sure you don’t?”

Merlin sighed. “The second. I’d upset people and not solve anything. Plus, I don’t really want to do any of about a hundred optional, competing things, which  _ all _ suck or have downsides.”

“Alright. So, no death, fire, or destruction then?”

“I’ve been reliably informed that none of those should take place before breakfast.”   
“Then princess is getting soft.” Gwaine smiled at his friend to ease the tension of his friend gently.

Merlin frowned and looked away. “Gwaine. I’m- there’s a  _ lot _ I haven’t told you, but… but I’ve seen you fight before. The last time I felt this angry I ended up killing her. Not someone defenceless, but- please Gwaine, I need to get clothes and the medicine, but I can’t go in there without someone to ground me. I’m not… I’m not _ good. _ Not like people think.”   
“Merlin. You fought an immortal army. You’ve been in more skirmishes than I’ve counted, you grew up in a border village. I  _ assumed _ you’ve blood on your hands. We’ve  _ all _ killed. I’ve seen everyone else at the round table do so for certain. Princess can call you a girl, but he still showed you more’n he’s supposed to. Good men aren’t perfect men. I won’t let you hurt someone you still love. Or get yourself chucked in the cells before breakfast.”

Merlin frowned, shifting, “What makes you think it involves someone I love?”

Gwaine looked seriously at him and kept his voice low, “Not my first court. Nor the first family I’ve seen. You asked the other guy a lot of question before I left that couldn’t have had  _ easy _ answers and had to have dredged up a lot of pain. I’ve a lot of vices mate, but stupidity isn’t one of them. You want me to bring a spare tunic and breeches over for tonight?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“Did you find out your father’s name?”

Merlin shrugged and cleared his throat, “Balinor. It’s the only thing I knew before about him. Other than the inescapably obvious.”

Gwaine nodded. It was something. Memorising it for later he nudged his friend conspiratorially. “Hey Merlin. Do you think Eileen really did take your advice?”

Merlin looked over to Gwaine as he sorted his laces, and the contagious grin that survived even in wastelands, and began to laugh. “I really hope so. Oh do I hope so.”

They didn’t creep- knight don’t sneak out- but they did go quietly enough as to be caught leaving only by two others, and moved quickly through the quicker back passages to the physicians chambers, Merlin bracing himself before entering. By the missing cloak it appeared that Gaius had been called on last night. Most such occasions would leave Merlin feeling guilt, but this time all he felt was sheer relief at not having to face the man.

Gwaine nodded, he had back up, if nothing else Gwaine could knock him out fast enough to break his concentration. He hoped. 

Judging on his gut reactions Merlin stuffied a change into his travelbag and shoved it towards Gwaine, only to be accosted by and excitedly bouncing spirit. “I did it, I did it! You were right, it totally worked.” Merlin smiled and blinked back tears. “That’s great Eileen, glad to hear it. I’m expecting to be out late tonight, if I miss you, tell him- Tell him The Dragon rises. He’ll understand. I think I’ll be sleeping at Gwaine’s tonight though, if you follow him back he’ll show you the way, and probably give you a whole bunch of blackmail on me along the way. He’ll do most things to impress a pretty girl.” He winced, loading all the necessary potions and ointments into the basket, he knew the regular ones by heart by now.

For today Merlin needed his thickest mask. The one he wore when Will died, Freya died, when Balinor died, when he poisoned Morgana. When he mastered the power of life and death with no idea it existed.

The difference between Merlin this morning and the day before was jarring to the prince. This one was more familiar, and yet in contrast felt more  _ constructed _ . Less authentic. Like Morgana had appeared to the court years ago before she went into her chamber and screamed into a pillow, or demanded Arthur hurt  _ another _ boy during training for groping her since she wasn’t allowed to. Who embroidered obscenities in flawless stitches in a subtle rebellion against Uther whilst working within unfair constraints, just to prove a man could control her activities but not her mind.

_ This _ Merlin was  _ too _ calm. He laughed in the right places, forgot to screw up a couple of chores that didn’t actually damage anything important. This Merlin was  _ incomplete _ . Arthur hadn’t known it until he  _ knew it _ , and now he couldn’t return to the easier state of ignorance. Not long after Merlin left, saying he had herbs to gather- not adding ‘for Gaius’ which was strange’, Gwaine arrived, as instructed, looking extremely serious, for him.

Arthur directed him to the chairs they’d used those first couple of nights. “Good morning Princess. What can I do for you this morning?”

Arthur sat opposite him, already frustrated by the feigned obtuseness. “You know what, and you know why I wanted to speak to you. I know you’ve been talking to Merlin, and well, things just seem different between you both.”

Gwaine inclined his head, “As I said I intended to do, and aye, things are a bit changed right now. Takes a while for some revelations to settle, doesn’t it.”

Arthur looked his knight over intently and grit his teeth. “Fine. Don’t ever tell anyone I said this or I will order the rising sun  _ and _ kitchens to stop serving you but,  _ I’m worried about him ok? _ Really, properly, what is going on to make this mess worried. Why is he being woken by a ghost, or at least believing that? Yesterday I had a crazy, but honest manservant. Today I have what looks on the surface like a sane one; with the reactions of a wounded animal or teenage Morgana. Both of whom keep glancing towards you. I know he stayed with you last night.” Gwaine held up a hand. “Stop. If you want any cooperation at all then you remind yourself I don't share secrets that aren't mine. Then you check yourself to be certain that your decisions are not influenced by jealousy. Nothing good ever comes from that.”

“Jealous? I don't want! Guinivere is…”

“God no, not this again. I just meant it’s difficult as a Prince to reach across invisible boundaries. Extremely difficult to make friends, or accept anyone. It's even harder to do the reverse and dare to cross from the other side. Trust me, I've done it from both. It's not wrong to be jealous of friendship appearing easier, just as it is not wrong of them to envy your feasts despite not starving. Really. Examine your motives. Do it before acting.”

Arthur expression was dark, as he clearly applied the advice, despite being sure of his answer already, “I think I preferred it when you were only an always cheerful drunk.”

“No you didn't. It was just easier when the only one who argued with you didn't really have the rank to do it. I may have left it all in the past but the learning is still there. So plan your tactics carefully Arthur. Merlin moves in every direction. He’s unpredictable. You like that. It’s a challenge when so few people surprise you. ”

“He's not the bloody queen!”

“Of course not Princess. Whatever you may yell openly he's a good man with a warriors heart.”

Arthur snorted, “Merlin’s no warrior.”

“Oh? You'd take any other servant into battle with an immortal army, casually calling ‘you don't get a choice’ over your shoulder then? See them declaring they don't really fancy it and accept it for the clear jibe it was? I hate to say it princess, but Lancelot is right. He should have got his knighthood beside us. But he didn't, so here we are, in quite the pickle.”

“Yes. I definitely miss drunk Gwaine.”

“Never fear, Princess. I am  _ absolutely  _ still drunk Gwaine. Just…  _ More _ , with it. You lost nothing, just gained more of what there is to a man. Forget rank. Forget task lists. Which  _ man _ do you want to know more of.”

“Fuck off, Gwaine, you know the answer.” Arthur turned away.

The other wasn’t put off, “Aye, but I need to hear you admit it to yourself.”

“Fine. To quote him though, you're a royal ass. Merlin said that to me the second time I met him ok?”

Gwaine paused and looked at Arthur.  _ Really looked.  _ “And you let him go free after that?”

“Free? No. But if you mean he wasn’t…. Punished… As He should have been according to certain  _ people _ and laws, yes, he got off very lightly.” 

Gwaine hadn’t known that. To form  _ any _ kind of bond with him so quickly was extremely unusual, “I still won't break my word. You have been forgetting though in your urgency to put Camelot to rights that when you eat and drink he is working. When you are provided for in council, he is serving, and cannot be seen to have anything any more than you feel comfortable being seen to offer it publicly. When he leaves here at night he goes to continue his second job- which by the way was his first here before you. His body is suffering, not simply everything else. You need to make sure he’s eating and drinking, he barely sleeps either. 

He has taken on more of Gaius work, and you noticed, despite the demands on you as regent, but it went unnoticed how many hours Gaius worked even with an assistant. He is getting old Arthur, and faster than there is time to train another in his place. Camelot is a good place, under  _ you  _ it can become great, but it has existed for a number of years without any true preparations for the future, beyond the heir to the throne. You. It is wrong, but if nothing changes the task will fall to you to undo the neglect that has been so subtle and yet left unchecked any longer has the potential to weaken Camelot fatally. Few replacements of non military skills have been trained, going back  _ long _ before Gaius took Merlin in. As things stand I… Fear for my brothers and my king. _ You _ are my king, in case that was unclear, Sire. To say I haven’t shared  _ any _ of that with the others is hardly necessary, but you’ve my assurance of it anyway.”

Arthur’s head was spinning, he couldn’t refute what he desperately wanted to but… “Why?”

Gwaine stared at him as though he’d said something ridiculous, “What would be gained? Camelot stands, we fight hard, we fight for  _ you _ . Why would I ever undermine that? I’m proud to fight for you Arthur, and of the knights. To create doubt in their minds about what they defend would be dangerous, in many ways. I think Merlin, as he takes on more of the Physicians work on top of his service, begins to understand, but I’d hardly choose to be the one to confirm that concern.” 

Arthur ran fingers through his hair, “God, what am I supposed to do? Especially with father practically a broken man after Morgana...”

Biting his lip and going for broke Gwaine spoke to him as to any other man, not letting him look away, “Forget Uther. You said it yourself. He’s  _ broken.  _ At least for now.  _ Your _ decisions are what matter right now. I can’t fix this for you, or guide you, I’m the wrong man for that. You do what you believe is right. You’re a good man Arthur. Do what you think is right.”

Arthur smiled slightly, twirling the stem of his goblet, watching the liquid ripple, “You know you’re not the first man to tell me that.”

“Damn right I’m not. Told you I pay attention to some things.”

“Thank you. Seriously, Gwaine. I think my to do list just became significantly longer, but if I do it  _ right,  _ perhaps so can Camelot’s future.”

“Anytime, Princess.”

“Gwaine?”

“Aye Princess?”

“If you notice any other…  weaknesses, bring them to me.”   
The knight hesitated, trying to figure out how to broach the answer without outright  _ saying it _ . “Sire? What if they are  _ illegal _ ? Or  _ discussion _ of specific history is prohibited?”

Arthur sighed. “Then you already have. Does this pose a danger to my people?”

Gwaine grimaced, “Magic, or the illegal and historical things?”   
“Either.”   
Gwaine paused, “Sire, I can only agree to discuss things I have noticed that will not result in instant execution.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine. The second thing then, to begin with.”   
“Sire, that will be extremely difficult if the first is prohibited.”   
Arthur suppressed a growl, “Gwaine?”   
His response was cautious, he knew he was pushing the Prince further than usual. “Sire?”   
“Don’t make me regret this. Tonight, after Merlin leaves, freedom of speech without consequence for one night only.”

Gwaine swallowed, he couldn’t waste the chance. “Then yes, there is definitely a danger to your people if things continue onwards as they currently stand.”

Arthur groaned, “You couldn’t just come and tell me the answers to what I  _ want  _  to know.”

“Would it be better than what you  _ need _ to know?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions Gwaine.”   
“I’m gonna take that as a no, Princess.”

“Take it however you want. You can save the rest for tonight. So, I need to force or trick my manservant into eating and drinking, the basic function every other human addresses.”   
“Arthur… I don’t ask to imply anything, but have you ever had a year of bad harvests? Or two? Merlin grew up in an isolated community, you saw it. Cenred taxed everyone beyond their means. If a person doesn’t have anything or is forced to live on too little for long enough, they stop noticing hunger. It literally becomes normal. Ever notice how much he filled out after coming to Camelot despite his terrible habit of forgetting to eat?”   
Arthur closed his eyes. “Oh fucking hell. I didn’t realise that…. I’m going to have to trick or bully him into looking after himself at all, amn’t I.”

“Maybe a little bit, Princess. He might even go along with it if it’s coming from  _ you _ .”

“Get the Merlin list.”   
“I annoyed you that much?”   
“The answer to that will always, always be ‘Yes’ Gwaine.”

He fetched it from the shame drawer and slapped the thing down in front of Arthur. “Why do you need it?”

“He didn’t mess up any of the minor chores this morning, which he only does when something big has happened, then said he was fine but his knuckles were swollen and bruised. If it was anyone else he’d spent the night with I’d already have  _ spoken _ with them.”   
“ _ I _ get a free pass for that?” Well that was a first.

“If anyone hurt Merlin it’d be you I’d have to race to reach them first. Don’t  _ ever, ever _ tell him that.” Gwaine chuckled. It was good to hear Arthur admit that Merlin wasn’t ‘just’ a servant. All he had to do  _ now _ was tell  _ Merlin  _ that.

“Just, Gwaine? Whatever you do, don’t hurt him. I’m- I don’t really  _ do _ warm and fuzzy. I definitely don’t  _ hug _ . Don’t break Merlin. The mess after would be terrible.”

Yep, that was Princess. Emotionally stunted by Uther, yet somehow slightly healed, and it all revolved around Merlin. The threat wasn’t lost on Gwaine.

“You aren’t even the scariest person I’ve made that oath to Princess.” Dragons were sort of people too, right?

“Arthur, May I have your permission to access the library and archives, there are a couple of things I need to check to be certain of one of the likely vulnerabilities. No point in worrying you with something that’s been dealt with, or missing something simple but vital.”

Arthur agreed easily, much better than have to try and sneak past Geoffrey.  “Just don’t damage, scorch, or lose anything.” He wasn’t the scorching risk for archives, thought Gwaine, considering all the times Merlin had been in there.

“May I have the afternoon to research this? It shouldn’t take so long, but I’m unfamiliar with the layout here, and Geoffrey’s scary, if I get anything in the wrong place he might use my skin for parchment.”

“No he wouldn’t. No one would ever voluntarily go near your feet Gwaine.” 

“You’re one to talk, I’ve seen your mocket socks after patrol. Practically weapons on their own.”

Arthur breathed a little easier. Gwaine was right. They were still the same men, just  _ more _ .

When he left Gwaine made a point of seeking out Merlin, so that it didn’t come as a surprise that he’d been talking to Arthur, or cause him to think information had been shared which hadn’t.

Merlin’s grin faded noticeably when he said he had to see the Princess that night,  but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“Come on, I need a hand, the library isn’t really a place I go, if anything I avoid it, but there’s something I actually need to look for, and it’ll save time if you can explain Geoffrey’s mad filing system, assuming he  _ has _ a filing system.”

It was enough to revive his friend a little, “I won’t be away all night, you’re still welcome, even if  _ I’m  _ not there yet. If it gets too bad you’re only be feet away from Lance’s chambers.”

“I- if it gets  _ bad enough _ I don’t want him to see me like that. I’m scaring myself Gwaine, I can’t serve Arthur at dinner with Uther tonight. I honestly don’t know what I might do, it wouldn’t even be intentional.” Gwaine nodded slowly. “Ok. That’s… Ok. Merlin. I want you to let me talk to Perce with you, not to explain things, but I think you’ll find him surprisingly understanding, and if nothing else the man can sit on you. Right now, you are going to focus,  _ really tightly _ on helping me decipher this pile of nonsense from meaningful things- uh, hi Geoffrey, I mean the very lovely scrolls and well cared for books. Obviously.”

“Merlin? Why is he here?”

“It’s uh… ah punishment, from Arthur.”

“Well deserved I’m sure. Perhaps it’ll be more effective. Touch nothing.”

“Come on Geoffrey, I’m sure he can touch without destroying.”

“If he does, I will hold  _ you _ responsible, Merlin.” The warlock turned away muttering, “Hold  _ You _ responsible, of course he will, alway  _ my _ responsibility, no one wants to…”

Gwaine reached out to gently rest a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Merlin? King’s son, walking bucket of shame, but I know how to treat them. I need to have a look for historical records, and Arthur also wanted me to check the genealogies to see if they added me on here, as it was in Caerleon, last thing  _ he _ needs is diplomatic issues for it the next time their retinue visits. Too much of the look of my sire to be missed in an open court. No record, no way of them knowing for sure as far as the other nobles are concerned.” It wasn’t untrue, it just wasn’t his most pressing reason. Thankfully Merlin was edgy enough already just to shrug and show him the way to that section.

Due to Arthur being determined to keep Merlin where he could find him, he couldn’t spare much time that afternoon, unlike Gwaine, Arthur couldn’t just not turn up to train the knights, though he was trying to devise a back up plan for in emergencies. 

 

It was surprising that a man like Geoffrey could loom, but with the odd lighting in the library it was quite effective. Merlin had been gone quite some time before the man appeared at Gwaine’s shoulder, longer than he’d expected really given the warnings from the archivist upon entry. “Hello  _ Sir Gwaine _ . Interesting section you’re researching there.”

“Very. Did you know several branches of prominent families cut off quite abruptly in the same place. It’s almost as if entire lines have been extinguished. Erased one might say.”

“Quite.” Geoffrey’s eyebrow climbed unnaturally high.

“I assume you have good reason to be researching past marriages and births?”

“And deaths, Geoffrey. Does a man really  _ need  _  a good reason to read, after all what constitutes ‘good’ at all? Is it not a man-made concept?”

Geoffrey smiled, at least, Gwaine thought he did underneath the beard. Maybe the beard had a personality. “You amuse me Sir Gwaine. Now, shall we continue this charade, or would you like to tell me whose line you are  _ really _ looking for?”

Gwaine mimicked the eyebrow, with several decades less practice. “I really wouldn’t.”

The archivist cocked his his as though curious, “Well then, shall we pretend I don’t know who sired you after I recorded the birth and listened to the extended rant about royal bastards and illegitimacy from _Uther_ _Pendragon_ \- I could recite it if you like? Or are you curious about a friend? You did seem quite keen to look alone.”

“Geoffrey, how fast can you run, do you think you’d reach Arthur before I did?”

“Oh good grief, you’re all so  _ dramatic _ , worse than those terrible romances the King insisted I keep for Morgana. Do you really think I’ve ignored  _ you _ so long to turn you in? Or  _ him _ . His father  _ lived here _ . Pain in the neck he was. Not a lick of sense, and far too happy to play with fire for any archivist’s comfort.”   
“You know who he is.” Gwaine murmured.

“I know  _ what he is.” _

“How long?” 

Geoffrey scoffed, “Years. First, maybe second time he dropped that ridiculous ‘idiot’ front of his where I could see. Oh, I’m absolutely certain it’s not  _ entirely _ false, some of the things that boy has done- good heavens. How he thought Sir Lancelot could pull off a noble upbringing permanently god only knows.”

Gwaine was stunned, the man hadn’t given the slightest hint of awareness, treating them both as they presented themselves, not mentioning a word, he carefully weighed his options;

“Geoffrey, how far are you willing to go?”

“I’ve done things that you wouldn’t believe, and that I’ll never be able to cleanse my soul of. What do you need sire?”

“First, for you to never use that title again. Haven’t heard it in a very long time, never want to hear it again. Secondly, Arthur is asking questions.  _ Sensible questions _ , thirdly, why the hell don’t you have an apprentice, and fourth, what did you save that  _ he _ believes burned two decades ago.”

“Nothing much then.”

“Oh, one more thing. Before I say anything regrettable, you give me the name of his father.”

Geoffrey huffed, “Balinor. There goes the Last Dragonlord, son of Balinor,  _ their _ Lord.”

“Well then, I do believe we have work to do. You owe him an apology you know.” It seemed wrong to Gwaine that  _ another _ person would have withheld vital information about himself from Merlin.

“My apology was given in keeping him alive, and ignoring the missing books he sneaked out and  _ sometimes _ back in.”

“Fair point.”

“Ask Merlin where some of the ‘saved’ things are, the man found the first place within a fortnight of being here.” Gwaine rolled his eyes, “Of course he did. How did Morgana never realise.”

Geoffrey looked away and his voice dropped, “I don’t know. There’s a lot about that girl that doesn’t add up. Always was.”

Gwaine nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Geoffrey scowled, “Not many did. No one could question, let alone criticise in Uther’s hearing. Arthur was held to account for  _ everything _ , Uther was… a hard father to grow up with. A hard man.”

“So why do you serve him?” Gwaine wanted to understand.

“He wasn’t always like that. You mean why didn’t I stop, refuse to remain at my post.”   
Gwaine didn’t deny it, “I do.”

“This is why. If there was no one who remained to remember, who would answer the Prince’s ‘sensible questions’, hmm? Who would tell him where the mass graves are? Record the names, even as the branches were erased and extinguished. If no one remains to be a keeper of the truth, however terrible it may be, then the lies become the history which is remembered.”

“I think I understand.”

Geoffrey and his beard shook their head, “No. You don’t, but you will son. You will.”

That was…. That was worrying. Clearly bothering him wouldn’t help as apparently the man was a vault for secrets.

“How have you never been accused, or  _ interviewed.” _ Geoffrey winked at him, “Because I’m boring.” His voice took on a droning pattern, “Terribly, terribly dull, and of no consequence to anyone, keeper of the records of taxes and sheep herds, and the length of yarn required to darn socks.” Gwaine’s mouth had dropped open as the man’s bright eyes glazed over and he suddenly seemed  _ greyer _ , “No, I never used magic, not a drop in me, nor family. Which obviously helped. That was Gaius. Who you will not inform of my aid, or your actions here. Or elsewhere.”

“You don’t trust him?” That focused his attention.

“Trust doesn’t come into it Sir Gwaine. Can’t tell something you don’t know. How keen are you to immediately tell Merlin  _ everything _ you have found and investigated here today?”

Gwaine nodded, “Aye, not the way I want to go about things. Do you know, Lord Geoffrey, what could cause a rift between Gaius and Merlin.”

The man turned away from him. “There are many things, Sir Gwaine, that we have done in the past, not all of them good, and not all of them without unforeseen consequences. Things that perhaps we should have done and didn’t, situations we’d handle differently. All men have regrets. Some are just… bigger than others. Gaius and I have lived a  _ long time _ , longer I believe than has been kind to us, though today I cannot regret it, there are a great many things that could cause rifts between them. I am almost surprised it has taken so long to reach such a stage. I am glad that he is not alone  in this. For all our sakes.” Geoffrey’s raised eyebrow was unsettling, and made Gwaine wonder what he was missing. “Don’t forget your scrolls and papers Sir Gwaine, please, and good luck.”   
The word ‘luck’ halted him, and Gwaine turned back to the man as he was about to leave, “Lord Geoffrey, what do you know of ‘destiny’?”

The look the man directed at Gwaine could have burned him, “I know that it is not a word to speak loudly in Camelot, and that you should be very,  _ very  _ careful before asking one from your friend’s bloodline about it.” Gwaine’s throat was dry as he thanked the man.

“Keep your word as well as I have kept mine, Sir Gwaine. You would not wish to answer to  _ his _ kin.”

“No. No I would not. I will heed your words well Lord Geoffrey, and your example. Good evening my Lord.”

The beard dipped as though he had just confirmed something, and Gwaine did not feel ready to confront what that might be.

  
  


Noting how little light remained Gwaine realised he had missed dinner. It was just as well really, better to take everything directly to Arthur’s chambers without alarming Merlin too badly.

They were both in the rooms when Gwaine arrived and laid the materials on Arthur’s desk. “What’s that?” Merlin asked.

Gwaine turned grinning, “The extra bits are courtesy of Geoffrey having a good day and being determined to encourage education amongst the knights, I’ve been thoroughly warned by the man and he expects us to be able to demonstrate appropriate comprehension when they are returned. “Do you want a hand?”

“Not this time Merlin, if I need a translator we’ll save them for you. Knights honour.” Merlin rolled his eyes at the Prince’s ridiculous acting. “Fine, be like that then, don’t blame me when you get stuck halfway through and I’m wrist deep in something vile- oh sod off Gwaine!- how do you  _ think _ you all have salve for aching muscles and healing balms.” 

“Sorry, you’re right, I know mate.”

Gwaine turned too the Prince, “Sire, Can I borrow Merlin for a few minutes, Percy said he meant to see the physician after training, but he never does,”  Merlin and Arthur both rolled their eyes, it was just the  _ worst excuse. _ “Gwaine, I honestly do not want to know what you need Merlin for that will be only a few minutes.

“-Oh god,  _ no Arthur-”  _

_ “Really _ I don’t, He’s just finished the stuff that needs done for the night anyway, you don’t even have to return him until morning, just no… no breaking him.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s Percy you need to tell that to since you demanded my presence tonight, Merlin, Arthur has certain questions about how much I actually learned growing up.” 

Also true. 

Merlin’s eyes opened and he made a sound of understanding, “Right, well Percival  _ is  _ very important, I’d best be going to  _ check _ on him.”

“Goodnight Merlin.” Arthur sounded exasperated, after a day of overly cooperative Merlin and the effort of not calling him on it, he really was.

Gwaine yanked him from the room as he called back, “‘Night Arthur.” The were almost to the knights quarters when Merlin frozen and looked with dawning  horror to Gwaine,

“What am I supposed to do about any  _ visitors _ that turn up if I’m with Percy?”

“Tell him?”

“No.”   
“Ugh, not that, idiot, just the visitors bit.”   
“And  _ you _ think he’ll buy that?”

Gwaine grinned, shaking his head. “No mate, I  _ know _ he will.”

 

“If he doesn’t, and thinks I’m crazy, I’m getting Lachlan to wake you up.”

“Lachlan?”

“The not-pretty one. With a beard.”

“Ah. That’s fair.”

When they got to the knights quarters Percival didn’t seem surprised to have someone chapping his door, but he  _ was _ more surprised to see Merlin there with Gwaine, looking between them  for an explanation. “Percival, you great eejit, no one can go through a door until you move. I’m not going to try going through you.”

“Oh!” He smiled apologetically and stepped aside, “Sorry about that. The door closed behind them.”

Looking around Percy’s room was much more like his own. 

“Hey, Perce, I swear I have a reason, a very  _ good _ reason, but I need you to tell Merlin about Dana. I haven’t, I wouldn’t, he doesn’t know why I said you’re safe.” Turning to the warlock in question his eyes begged for understanding. “I  _ have  _  to go back to deal with the Princess right now, but I  _ am _ coming back. You’ll know, Merlin.”

Leaving two very confused friends together, a still rattled knight made his way back up to the Prince’s chambers, more nervous than he’d ever expected to be, dealing with Arthur.

\----------------------------------------------------------

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

“Perce, I don’t know why Gwaine asked you to tell me anything, I haven’t asked or anything, he just agreed that- uh, that is..”

“Sit down Merlin, and shut up, you’re glitchy.  Gwaine fed me something a trader called absinthe once, but other than that, he’s never consciously put me in danger I didn’t volunteer for.  If he says you need to know, then well, he’ll have his reasons. Just, when you can, explain them. Have you eaten?”

Merlin snorted, “Arthur didn’t join Uther earlier, and got all offended earlier that I hadn’t eaten, insisted people would think he was starving his servants, yeah, I had something.”

“Good.” Percival nodded, “You still forget.” Merlin grimaced, yeah, Percy was a  _ real _ peasant, the kind he had been. “You want half a slice of nicked apple pie?”

Merlin looked at the mischievous look on the big man’s face and had to laugh, “Go on then, if you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t, and it’s not like you’re asking, is it?” Merlin shook his head and obeyed. “Forget?”

Percival raised an eyebrow “That there’s enough. You’re not stealing from someone else Merlin, just because you didn’t grow and process it. Think of it like this, they don’t harvest the trickier herbs and ones that can be mistaken, and they don’t make or process the medicines, or diagnose anything, it’s a simple trade, but it goes through the castle kitchens. Taking your full share isn’t greed, it’s just that- well- before there wasn’t enough, and most of us, try to protect the ones who need us first.” 

“I never really thought of it that way.”

“Just eat the damn pie.”

Merlin did, when it was gone he looked over at the man who was so often in the background- impressive for someone so big, he looked  _ open _ , and as though he was remembering something. Seeing that he had Merlin’s attention, Percy took steadying breath to begin,

“Dana was… she was something else. Like catching moonlight. She’d dark hair, like yours, and co-ordination- not like yours.” He smiled, “She always did love to dance. I could have listened to her sing forever.” Merlin winced, he was intimately familiar with what the past-tense meant.

“You loved her.”

“More than anything, she left a life that she loved too, for me. We were only married a couple of years really, but I couldn’t remember clearly a time that she wasn’t in my life. She’d still go and visit her family, most of the time I went with her, but you know how it is with harvests, you can’t just up and  leave them. Her family though, they travelled around a lot, often weren’t in the area, so when she heard they were, I told her to go, I’d stay and mind we didn’t lose the crop, she was close to her time, and wanted to see her mam, she was so excited. Dana was sure the little’un was going to be a girl, was planning how she’d teach her to dance- to dance like  _ her _ . Not me, she always said I was like a tree come to life,  _ her _ living tree though. Thing is, you see, Dana’s family, they weren’t  _ safe. _ Always just keeping ahead of the hunters. Right up until then. That was the last time I saw her alive. The bounty hunters got what they wanted, and there was no reason to…”

Percival looked sick and his eyes closed. 

Ignoring the usual arm-slapping thing, remembering what Arthur had offered, Merlin shifted to sit next to Percival and covered his clenched hand with his own.

“She sounds wonderful. I’m glad you brought each other such joy, and I’m sorry they were taken from you too soon. Percival opened his eyes to look over at Merlin, seeing his hidden grief reflected there and something altered in his appraisal. “Thank you. Who was it, Merlin? Who did you lose?”

Merlin closed his eyes against the tears he tried to never shed. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me.”

He shook his head and took a ragged breath. “No. I think I do. She deserves that. I don’t actually think this is exactly what Gwaine had in mind, because I’ve never mentioned her, not to anyone.” Merlin side eyed Percival, who dropped a massive arm about his shoulders. “Her name was Freya. I never really got to see her dance, although there are rumours even now about my dressing habits; I stole one of Morgana’s ball gowns.” Percy smiled at that, “She was brought in here in chains, what those evil- they hurt her, the rags were just wrong. She was kind, and gentle, we made each other laugh. 

She knew bits of me that no-one else could, but I was young and stupid.  If I’d been faster maybe, but I didn’t know enough then to… Freya was a druid, Percival, but she was cursed, against her will, and while she could be calm next to me, without that, she was deadly. I know most people would think that is unforgivable, but by then I spent a lot of time with knights, and lethal women, and- and I prefer someone who I know is  _ able _ to fight back.” Percival nodded slowly, “The family Dana left, were they traders, or druids?”

Percival kept his voice level, and his answer non committal, “I think you know the answer to that Merlin.” 

Swallowing, Merlin paused, wondering how much he should or could explain, but Gwaine had been right and Percy…

“I was there. I was  _ so close _ to being where she needed me, just… not enough. I created a distraction, but it was too late, she was wounded, and there was nothing that could have saved her. She hurt someone nearly as badly when they attacked her, and I didn’t care.

I picked her up, and she smiled, she was… Freya was so pale, even more than usual, and her breathing got shallower. I didn’t know what to do, they wouldn’t have helped her anyway. So I ran. I carried her, so that they couldn’t treat her like she hadn’t mattered, hadn’t been loved, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, just thinking of where we’d planned to stay one day. Freya is… She’s at rest now, by some miracle I carried her to the Lake of Avalon, she died there in my arms,” He laugh-sobbed, “I burned her body on the lake, in the Lady Morgana’s stolen ball gown. She said thank you, at the end, for making her feel loved again. Yet I’ve never told anyone about who she  _ was _ . How is that loving?”

Percival didn’t tell him it was ok. He listened, and let Merlin weep silently, as he had done for his own losses.

“You really took her to the Lake of Avalon?”

“Yeah.” Merlin whispered, scrubbing a sleeve ineffectively across his face.

“Dana said that was supposed to be the most beautiful place on earth. Untouchable by evil. Whatever your Freya endured, she wasn’t alone. You took a druidess to the Lake of Avalon?” Merlin nodded, “You proved to her before she let go that her soul was good, and accepted by the goddess. You didn’t just give her love Merlin, you gave her  _ peace. _  If Dana- If Dana  _ was _ here she’d be proud of you.” They sat quietly for a while, thoughts wandering. 

“Does Lance know?” Percival knew the pair were close.

“Not like that, no. He knows a little. He doesn’t understand. I don’t think he’d appreciate the nuanced morality much.”

Percival nodded.

“No, he probably doesn’t. I hope he doesn’t.” Merlin smiled tightly, knowing what Percy meant.

“So if this is not what Gwaine had in mind, not that tonight hasn’t been quite intense enough mind, what did he want, manhandling you in here in typical ‘helping’ fashion?”

“He said you wouldn’t think was crazy for having a friendly ghost, and one I’d happily strangle.”

“Not overly effective with ghosts, but sure, go for it?”

Merlin stared at him, “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Dana wasn’t. Why would you be different?” If ever there was a loaded question, thought Merlin. 

“It wasn’t only that, he thought you were the next best thing to stopping me doing anything stupid.”

“He said I’d sit on you, didn’t he?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Well, if it’s that bad, I’ll find us some ale.”

A chill went through the room.

“There you are! You said you’d be in the crazy one’s room!”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Well, the crazy one is in a meeting, so I’m stuck with the not-crazy knight just now instead, ok?”

Percival raised a questioning eyebrow at Merlin,

“This was Eileen, she’s met Gwaine.”

“Oh, I see, Good evening then.”

“Merlin? Are they  _ all _ crazy?”   
“No, it’s just that Percival has also met Gwaine.”   
“Ah, right. Lachlan says you’re probably not ready to see him again yet.”

“Aye, he’s not wrong. I think I need to talk to Kilgarrah first really.”

Eileen smiled gently, “I’ll tell him. You look  _ sad _ Merlin.”

“Yeah. Right now I think I can give you ‘sad’ or ‘burning rage’- sorry ‘overpowering wrath’. Sadness is less destructive and everyone lives.”

The ghost nodded understandingly, “I like those days Merlin, they’re special.”

He nodded, “They shouldn’t be Eileen, days where everyone lives? They should just be days.” 

Percival stood behind him, like the quiet wall of strength he was, “Merlin, is it possible for others to see her?”   
“Some. Why?” Merlin wasn’t sure why the knight was asking about that.

“Well, it seems like bad manners not to ask, but I wasn’t sure if she required an invitation or something.”

His first ghost smiled gently at Percy, “I like this one. You can keep him.”   
“Well I wasn’t about to get rid of him. You do realise how weird that would be, right? I know you don’t require invitations to  _ my  _  room, but what about here?”

Eileen grimaced, “No, it just takes more energy and I don’t want to feel faded later. I could show him fast though?”

“It  _ would _ be more polite.”

“Better or worse than the disembodied voice?”

“You know, Eileen, I think that’s really a subjective thing.”

The air before Percival rippled, a smiling young woman appearing, dwarfed by him but cheerfully bobbing a curtsy “Nice to meet you my Lady, any friend of Merlin is welcome in my home.”

She smiled brightly, “Nice to meet you Sir Percival, I haven’t had an invitation to a knights room for a very long time. Oh, and please remember that good friends don’t kill each other.”

“I’ll um- remember that.” 

“Good.” She said, as though he’d agreed to something. “Goodnight.”

“I have to go upstairs now,”   
“I’m sorry I can’t help right now Eileen,”   
“That’s ok, I remember Merlin. Dragons. I’ve got you.” She winked and half- skipped away.

“Huh. She’s not what I expected.”

“She’s not what  _ anyone _ expected,”

“Not even you?” 

Merlin groaned, “ _ Especially me _ .”

“How did  _ that  _ happen?” Percival really was quite good at keeping someone distracted, Merlin realised when Gwaine returned much, much later. 

“Hey, thanks Percy.”

“Anytime Merlin, even if it’s just a day no one knows matters.”

 

Merlin did feel a bit guilty leaving instantly, but really, he owed Gwaine, so instead steered the man back to his own room and closed the door, kicking off his boots in an indication of intent to stay. “Gwaine?” 

The knight looked up at him, and Merlin removed the mocking tone from his voice, “You look like shit, come on, what’s the Prat done to you?”

“Me? Nothing. Just had a lot of  _ realisations _ tonight, and been confronted with information that changes things. Don’t panic Merlin. Not you. I think you might be the one who’s told him the fewest lies about things that matter.”

“Don’t say that, Gwaine.”

“You came to me afraid of you might do. I believe the other side of your coin was confronted with some similarly traumatic information, albeit with very different guides, he’s just trying to work out what to do with it.”

“I’m sorry” 

Gwaine pulled the other man down, “Pretty sure it’s my turn to demand a hug. Did either of your friends meet Percy?”   
“Yeah, they met.”

“Which one?”

“The one you like, the other sensibly decided to give me a few days to cool off.” 

“You think it’ll be enough?”   
“Gwaine, the castle is still standing. Right now that’s a fucking miracle. We even had a day where everyone lived, which the ghosts think are ‘special’.” 

The knight hummed and shut his eyes, “You’re that powerful, huh?”

“If I said yes, would you run?”

“Too tired to run; and you’re warm.”

“What if I said it would be easy?”

“I’d believe you, and ask you very nicely to stop wriggling and wait until morning.”

Merlin held himself rigid for a minute, thinking; “Gwaine? I’m a warlock, not just Kilgarrah’s Lord.”

It was almost worth opening his eyes to express disbelief at the belated notification. “Yeah, I got that, he called you Young Warlock. The dragon’s not that subtle.”

“You never said anything.”

“Shut up Merlin, or I  _ will _ kick you out. You’re thinking too loud.”


	25. Fallout

**Arthur and Gwaine**

 Gwaine returned alone, and grim looking. “Sire, you need to dismiss the guards.”

“Dismiss the..?  Gwaine, they are _guards_ , for guarding the Regent and _others_.”

The knight bit back the instinctive retort to that. “They’re men like any other, and this is _not_ a conversation you want overheard. Nor do I _know_ what’s in some of the scrolls Lord Geoffrey handed me. Only that he believed it important or relevant to what he termed, ‘Very sensible questions’.”

Camelot’s Prince groaned deeply, “I hate it when Lord Geoffrey says that about _anything_ in Council.”  
“Sire? Dismiss the guards. Please.” He waited.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “You sound like an old woman Gwaine, but fine, if you say so.”

 His knight breathed a sigh of relief as they were left alone.

At least the Prince was _starting_ the night in a relatively open frame of mind. He’d no idea which turns it might take. How elements of the _Prince’s_ knowledge might alter his own thoughts, or why the archivist had given them certain items, though most were obvious.

“Well, you should know that Lord Geoffrey is the best actor I’ve seen in all my years through the five kingdoms and beyond, and that’s saying something. Also, that his advice should _never_ be undervalued. If he gives you something that sounds odd, take him aside after and pursue it.

The man has a memory that would put a _bard_ to shame.  You and I, have a great deal to discuss, though how to fit it into one night I’ve no idea. Perhaps you could begin with some questions? Or we could look for inspiration to the scrolls.”

Getting the impression that it was going to be one of the horrible long nights he had occasionally. The sort that seared themselves in his memory, Arthur figured it would probably not improve simply by procrastination.

“Bring the wine jug and parchment, and join me at the desk.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

“Sir Gwaine, before I end up angry at things being withheld from me, I wish to thank you for drawing it to my attention, however unintentional it may have initially been.”

Gwaine did as requested and raised his cup.“I will protect my family here with my life.”

 

Arthur watched him closely, “I understand Sir Gwaine that you have taken my knight to be brothers, so will assume you speaking of them?”

“Certainly Sire. I gave you my oath at the round table, I did not do so lightly.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the affirmation of his loyalty.

“Sire, if we are to do this I need you to understand that the gaps in your knowledge are not of your own making, nor a reflection of how I or the knights regard you. You are a good man and a strong leader. There are those who for their own reasons, or limitations have acted in a way that does not benefit the _future_ of Camelot, and while it is connected to some who you have trusted, it is _not_ at all the fault of any men- or women- who you have _chosen,_ the cracks go back a long way. They have to. Tonight will be painful, for both of us I believe. Your Archivist did not seem particularly keen on pulling his punches earlier.”

The prince’s eyebrows rose, “Does he know who you are by birth?”

Gwaine scowled, “He recorded my birth. Apparently my _dear_ mother chose a name that doesn’t show up often in the records he was responsible for. Enough to look twice.”

Arthur sighed. “People I trusted you said.”

Gwaine looked, concentrating on staying calm. “All men make mistakes, and all live with regrets, perhaps we should reserve judgement for now, often the worst mistakes are made when no _good_ choices are available to men.”

“You know, or suspect what these contain, don’t you.” Arthur accepted the proffered goblet of wine. “I suspect what avenues it may open, and I have learned a great deal in different lands Sire. There are things in Camelot that do not quite fit, and problems I don’t understand being left.”

Arthur rested his head in his hands. “You’re calling me ‘sire’, Gwaine, non-sarcastically.”

The knight acknowledged the variation. “This is not a round the campfire camaraderie situation Arthur. If you think I’m going to keep it up in the morning you’ve another thing coming, but I don’t want you to _truly doubt_ my respect.”  
“Then please, for the love of Camelot go with ‘Arthur’, it’s a balance between the two.”

“Much better. Right, shall we begin with terminated bloodlines that are complete in Caerleon with dates of death, or ‘that one time with the Questing Beast’?”  
Arthur grimaced. Yes. Those.”  
Gwaine reached for the relevant scroll, wincing at the thought his name was there. “I thought about erasing my name. Was going to do it too, but then I saw what damage it has done to the records. Look here. This is your line. There is Morgana’s, except that it’s wrong, and the birth date is incorrect here. The day of the year matches what we had recorded, but year itself does not, and her sisters are missing. Here, look, it’s done well, but there’s a space where something is missing. Names have been removed. It’s not the only place either, your mother’s brothers are listed here only as deceased, without date. That line ends with you. Which fact is unimportant to us right now.  Over here is where it gets interesting. There are no dates of death, only a cessation. No more marriages, births, nothing, except that several of them- not all- have a line drawn and either ‘removed’, ‘resolved’, or ‘end assured’. Due to the generation they appear to correlate to I believe this may have been a small part of the Purge, written euphemistically.”

Arthur nodded, taking a drink, he knew many had died in his father’s Purge and the war on magic. “Well yes, surely you would expect there to be casualties.”

Gwaine mentally counted to ten. “Look at the dates of birth and last marriages Arthur… and look at the name _furthest to the right._ I don’t know about you, but I only one Hunith, and she did not die without issue as this says.”

“I wonder… Could it be the same one? You really think _this_ could be Merlin’s mother?”

Gwaine looked away, wondering how he could set Arthur on track without betraying Merlin. “I _think_ it would be a big coincidence for a different one of similar age to know Gaius well enough to send her son as his ward. He’s the Court Physician of Camelot and has been for many years. A whole other problem. It’s uncommon for a single peasant woman, let alone a subsistence farmer who raised a bastard son to know such a man well. There is always the chance that it is coincidental.”

Arthur looked at his friend, at once mocking and serious. “You don’t believe that.”

Gwaine tilted his head, “No; but it doesn’t matter what I believe. The responsibility of deciding does not rest on my shoulders. I can offer insight, but I cannot and will not contend your authority.”

“His Father’s name is missing from the document.”

Gwaine sighed sadly. “No Arthur. His father’s _line_ is missing from the document. Did you ever ask? Not _demand_ , but _ask_ Merlin who his father was?”

Arthur’s frown showed his internal conflict already, “Merlin said he’d never met his Father.”  
Gwaine shrugged. “He didn’t lie. When you asked he hadn’t. Didn’t have so much as a name to go on- and for reasons I can’t share yet that has caused a great deal of unresolved anger.”

 “Why are you telling me this? Doesn’t it go against your no-sharing policy?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine frowned deeply, as though he had to think about how to answer. “I’m telling you because you _asked_ , and you need to know that you are _not_ the only one who has suffered from the choices others have made. You are not the only one to have had information that would have been life changing- or at least _shaping_ kept from you. Even Morgana, darkness and hatred aside, suffered through the ignorance of those around her and the thorough rejection of her sire.  
You said before that he offered power or affection. I saw before how Uther made what he granted or offered conditional. He did it to both and ensured that his children would never unite to challenge him. You are a tactician Arthur, a good one. Imagine… imagine it was _me,_ in _Caerleon’s_ court. My half brother was the full heir, and could not challenge his father alone. Had I been behind him and at his side then there would be no-one to claim rivalry he would have a much stronger chance. Analyse it. I’ve had a _long time_ to do so. It took me far too long to understand why my Sire ‘allowed’ himself to be manipulated by a grieving wife until she had a legitimate heir.” Gwaine shrugged. “As much as anything else, I was was a tool. A pawn. Morgana figured it out earlier. If she had truly only been a ward then the logical step would have been a political marriage, which they groomed her for, but perhaps it was a step too far. Learning the lies was the end. Not magic, that had been there from her very first vision as a child. You called them nightmares. Outside the borders, they called her a Seer.”

Arthur couldn’t look at his friend as he forced out a response, “Pray tell me then, what _is_ a Seer?”

Gwaine shrugged. “Exactly what it sounds like. One who Sees. They have visions of the future, or _probable futures_. They can be used as warnings, if the Seer is supported correctly, offered compassion and a way to learn to control them so that it’s not a constant loss of control, not just subject their mind to the fears of those around them or strongest emotions. If it’s ignored, they begin to suffer… imbalances. Initially it can look like minor over reactions, easily missed if one doesn’t understand. There is no possible way either of you two could have done.”

“Then _who did_.” Arthur’s tight grip on anger slipping.

Gwaine couldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes, his voice low. “Arthur, who was in the court before the learning was burned? Who has returned since then? Old enough to remember, or foreign enough to dare study.  
If magic was mentioned in your father’s hearing he had women, men, and children killed _if they were lucky_. If anything he believed was linked to it has been mentioned, he had them executed, or tortured. Had it been suggested that _she_ had any…?  No teacher could come near. Frankly _I’m_  still nervous discussing it with you and I know you’re a good and honourable man.

He hasn’t had me arrested for witchcraft yet which is quite the short list. Exiled; but not burned. I’m assuming you do know anyone who sees a witch-catcher is tortured, which I _know_ includes Merlin, Gaius, and Morgana- don’t look at me like that, I know you’ve wondered about some of the marks he never mentioned. On quests he can’t always cover them up. He makes all of the salves and balms anyway, Merlin wouldn’t want to worry you and it’s not like it can be undone.”

“I didn’t…  I didn’t know actually.” Arthur looked sick, and it puzzled Gwaine.

“What did you think his _special skills_ were? Baking?”

Arthur looked away, “Well given his title, detecting magic users actually, his always confessed.” Really it simply hadn’t occurred to him that his father would use _that way_ for information when he convicted it’s practitioners openly.  
Gwaine rolled his eyes, “Of course they did, execution was kinder, and at least they knew it would end.”

The prince closed his eyes, “God, he came in to work after. It seemed odd when Aredian fell from a window in a weird accident.” He paused, “It’s because it wasn’t an accident, isn’t it? All three of them were in that room with us.”

“Would you blame them if it wasn’t? The king sanctioned it. Commanded it. They would have had no recourse, because he acted according to the law and with Uther’s authority.”

Arthur shook his head, “No. I really couldn’t. I should have seen.”

“Yes.” Removing the responsibility for observations and actions from the Prince wouldn’t serve him well, and he wouldn’t appreciate being cushioned.

“However, even if you _had,_ you would not yet have had the power to challenge it, and they went out of their way to hide it. Morgana from pride and shame, Merlin from the same and a wish to hide it from you. It’s important to him you not see him as weak.”

Arthur looked appalled, “I don’t view him as weak. Not really.” Gwaine glanced over to his friend without accusation, “Not now you don’t. After everything we’ve been through of course you don’t, but then you weren’t,” Gwaine thought ‘friends’ might be dangerous right now so resorted to, “like you are now.”

Arthur indicated the jug. “Top me up Sir Gwaine. I’ve a horrible feeling at this stage it isn’t likely to get _better_.”

Gwaine filled both goblets to the brim, “I wish I could disagree Arthur, but I suspect not.”

The prince rested his head in his hands and just breathed for a minute, before sitting back in his chair. “Then let us continue. This has already gone on for far too long, and I need to have a place to begin, one night is not going to be enough to learn it all.”  
“It certainly isn’t Arthur. I wish it was.” Confirming that it could get much, _much_ worse wouldn’t help.

“I must admit, Gwaine, I didn’t anticipate things being quite so _personal._ I dislike the vulnerability… and the possible implications.”

“Unfortunately many things _are_ bound up in your own life, as must be for every future king.” Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, “Merlin called me something like that once, what was it?”

He thought… “Once and future king. He sounded so _serious_. One of his always unexpectedly wise moments.” Gwaine drained his cup. Shit, that would be a complicated one. He’d always gone looking for adventure, and it did seem that one had found him that was far bigger than he ever sought.

“Huh. Did he now?” Dammit, he was far too old to have his voice crack like that. Somehow he doubted the counting was going to work this time. Bloody Once and Future King? If he could trust Kilgarrah not to roast him...

 The Prince appeared concerned at his lack of focus, “What else do you think was covered by the magic laws that is not _technically_ magic?”

‘Oh, so very many things Arthur.’ was not an appropriate response.

Gwaine tried to scrape together enough of a coherent thought after Arthur’s offhand comment about legends to answer him.

“Quite a number of skills and birth traits. For example healing, the herbs and preparation were often similar for both medicine and ritual purposes. You only have one physician in Camelot. There _is_ a reason for that. Prophecy, which cannot be forced, no matter how a sorcerer may try. The art of the dragonlords. Not technically magic _and_ an inherited trait - Uther slaughtered them with the dragons, they have no choice at all. Creatures of the old religion- like unicorns- _are_ magic, and again it is innate, in their very life blood. Uther murdered babes in their swaddling clothes, and any woman who slept with those who may pass on known abilities, the survivors made it to other Lords occasionally to beg refuge. My father took a few, the king I couldn’t tell you for sure.

Mind to mind speech was common in certain communities. That’s not magic, just a different language.” Gwaine paused, it felt cruel, callous to list, but he’d no actual guarantee of another occasion to speak freely of any of it.

“These are hard things to hear, dark things, I know, but if you truly wish to address the damage  it will take time, and shrouding everything in darkness is laying this land open to harm. Already your people are deprived of physicians, and without uh- other types of healers. It causes needless deaths, and makes weakening border defences too easy. Men die on the battlements of blood-loss and in the infirmaries of infection. _Good men._ I will not pretend it is easy to see my brothers in arms die knowing they could easily be saved.”

Arthur’s face was dark, he wouldn’t buy his friend’s lives with innocents. “Is it not true then that the price for one life is another.”  
“Aye, it is that, and I am more relieved than you can possibly know that _that at least_ is familiar to you. Preventing a death from ever occurring, before a fatal wound though? Speeding the knitting of an artery? No. _That_ costs nothing. No lives. Only hope.”

 Arthur felt like he was drowning.

“Setting aside the _massive_ issue of magic. We have only _one_ physician in Camelot?”

Gwaine sipped at his drink, “Yes. Gaius. Well, one and a half, though Merlin does more than Gaius half the time since The Thing with Morgana.”

The prince’s expression clouded over as though trying to make sense of a difficult problem, which Gwaine supposed he was.

“Just them? For everyone?”  
The knight cocked his head in Arthur’s direction, “Well yes, why else do you think they would go out to the villages to deal with outbreaks? Have you ever seen another physician here- one who doesn’t then die.”

“No. I don’t remember any.”

“How old do you think Gaius is Arthur? Don’t _tell me_ , just guess and check the parchment.” Arthur did so and looked up in shock  
“Oh, shit! For real?”

It was hard not to show amusement at that, surely he’d noticed the man was present all his life and ageing? Or maybe it had been so incremental that he hadn’t, seeing him every day? “Mhmm. Now, what do you think happens if Camelot is attacked in a few years, because everyone outside _knows_ your father executes healers and physicians. Anyone with the skills coming in doesn’t leave.”  
Arthur scowled, “You know this how?”

“Arthur I spent over a decade moving, listening, surviving based on skills, instinct, and having useful information. Any healers who once resided here took their families and fled. They were ‘removed’. Check your documents. The Purge is _still_  going on, maybe not the way it once was, but there _are_ still executions. Even your kindness- and it absolutely _was_ a kindness Sire, no matter what Merlin may perceive, was painful. Exile is difficult for an older person.”

 Arthur stared at the liquid remaining in his cup. “Why did they lie to me Gwaine?”

His friend looked at him with compassion, “I truly wish I had the answer for you Arthur, I really do, but I don’t. All I have is experience, and a lot of anomalies in Camelot’s records. They are centred around the times of your own birth and Morgana’s. The Purge that followed leaves no official records. The only thing I found of the sort is… is this.” He hesitantly held out the book. High quality. Gwaine gave no hint. In truth he had no words. He had glanced inside and been unable to continue from the second page. Arthur opened it and his eyes went wide with shock as he looked up to the knight.

“Names, ages, charges. This was only the first year of the Purge Arthur… When I am _not here_ you need to read it, the names of those who burned and bled.” The Prince swallowed against a dry throat. He was holding what might be the only record of some victims, and proof of how extensive the Purge had really been.

Anyway, there are several situations that have occurred in Camelot in the past few years that could _only_  have been resolved with magic, or fought by it. Swords- unless they are _magical swords_ don’t work against it. Flesh and blood yes, steel against steel, magic against magic.

Your enemies and allies, even those who agree with _Uther’s_ hardest stance against magic understand this. As the king fades, the scrutiny will fall further upon you. Choices must be made Sire, of how you wish to go forwards. There is magic in Camelot whether you would have or not, and it is magic which has saved you, me, this _city_ many times over. It is the _only_ thing that could  defeat some of them.” Arthur looked sceptical and as though he was about to protest, Gwaine took a risk and cut in, “No. Did you you really think we defeated _an immortal army_ without it? How many did you cut down? They kept fighting, nothing without magic can kill the undead mate. I cut one in two and _he got back up_ . If that didn’t give you the hint, I don’t know what will, and before you get all over-dramatic and angry, no, I didn’t know, it came as quite the shock to me. Takes immense power to break something like that though, so whoever it is, I’m bloody glad they’re on my side instead of working together _with_ Lady Morgana. If they were driven to each other, you and I’d stand no chance. You’ve had a magical shield against them, all of you, even as you killed their kin, they’ve offered to stand in the breach when someone left you open and vulnerable because in the council they said you _didn’t need these defences_ . Believe me, continued failure that could _only_ be defeated with magic will be confusing the hell out of any witches. Unfortunately, your defender apparently has no fucking idea of how politics works in the longer term and are just pro- saving lives.” Gwaine rolled his eyes,

“Which puts you in the horrible and unenviable position of either bringing in a Court sorcerer or adviser on magic _quietly_ and editing your magic laws to not instant-death, or openly admitting that all of Camelot under 45 years of age knows fuck-all about magic and is utterly vulnerable to it. I guess, you need to decide where you want to take it. Right now you still have time, Uther still lives, you aren’t in a king-swapping crisis yet, that’s good. Gaius may be able to begin teaching another apprentice, or Merlin, except that then Merlin couldn’t be your servant anymore.”

Arthur glared daggers at the man who was refusing to soften the blows. “Congratulations. You’ve just acquired a seat on the council as an adviser Gwaine, consider it both punishment and reward for all….this.”

The look of horror he returned was _almost_ worth the pain. “No- don’t do this to me! I could come to reconsider my stance on you being a good man, Arthur.”  
The Prince’s brows climbed at the wounded look of his friend. “I can live with that.”

Gwaine let out an overly victimised sounding sigh, “Well, who am I going to have to sit on a council with?”

Arthur grimaced, “Guinivere, obviously, she might keep you in check a little, Probably Lancelot or Leon, a bunch of stuffy Lords.”  
“ _Obviously._ ” Sarcasm dripped from the word.  
Arthur ignored it with effort, “Whoever fills the place of second adviser, and the positions left open I guess.”

Gwaine gave Arthur an evaluating look. “I’ll accept it on one condition, Princess. You get over your ‘Merlin’s just a servant’ hangup and add him. He’s been at your side for years, you know his advice is- mostly- sound, and if you can do it for Gwen then you can do it for him.”

Arthur frowned, “Guinevere’s brother is a knight, Gwaine.”

“So should Merlin be, _but_ passing over that oversight, you figure out or learn who his father is? _Then_ come and tell me his rank isn’t high enough. I guarantee you the stuffiest asshole there won’t have a leg to stand on if you _want_ him there.”

The Prince smirked bitterly, “You broke a promise, Gwaine.”

The man huffed, “Did I indeed. You think? Fine. Name him. Or his position. Or the bloodline. I showed you his mother- possibly, but you already had her name. If you had known to look it would have stood out.”

Frustration left Arthur wanting to throw something, “I can’t.”

“Then you can begin to understand why it breeds fury that neither could he, while others here could and chose not to.”

Arthur’s shock was poorly hidden, “ _Why?_ What possible cause could they have for that?”

His friend sighed sadly, thinking of the state he’d left his friend in, “Aye. Yet another thing I wish I had answers to offer for and don’t, what I wouldn’t give...”

The Prince rubbed his forehead, “If those I have trusted are working against me, who do I go to for answers?”

Gwaine stared into his goblet, considering. “I don’t know about _working against you_ per se. More that things have become… disjointed. Tasks that would normally have been done, or completed, have not been or could not be. Choices that spiralled or were made, like some of your own, without having necessary information, without ever realising it was _missing._

Did you know most other castles have wards? The weakest ones are like tripwires. They do nothing active, cause no _harm_ at all, but they alert the enemy of your forces and relative strength far in advance of your arrival without being detectable without a magic user with you. No delay or risks with scouts. They have an advantage already. The walls are often reinforced. No longer enough to be _obvious_ , but enough to make them more secure and harder to bring down. It limits damage, even if they do fall. Camelot would have had them in place before magic was outlawed, certainly until your father solidified a power base, but with no one left to strengthen them or restore them after an attack… Of course anyone trying would be accused and burned. Anyone _young_ wouldn’t know such a thing existed or was even possible.

They aren’t used like the Sigan of nightmares did. Their people sleep at night feeling more secure is all. It encourages trade, and investment of people and resources, which any land needs to survive. How many women remain at court? When they begin bearing children they do not stay where there is no midwife or healer, they leave _with_ their children. How many generations can Camelot survive it Arthur? These things are _not_ of your orchestration, but you are the only king who can actively repair it, the population has been decimated- check the population and taxation data for the years we have. I couldn’t find anything before your birth, I’m sorry. Your only hope for _that_ is Lord Geoffrey. It’s as though he’s designed the whole damn library to _hide_ things rather than be accommodating.” Gwaine held Arthur’s gaze as he said it, relieved when the prince nodded slowly. “It seems I need to speak rather urgently with our archivist.”

“I think that would be very wise Sire. He did make one request. That we do not share our current activities with Gaius. I don’t think it means you avoid speaking to him about _his own_ part in all of this, only that you collect the data as uncontaminated or compromised as possible before drawing any final conclusions.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, his fingers steepled.  “There is more that you are not telling me.”

Gwaine’s expression closed off, reminding Arthur just how much he was being _permitted_ to share. How new it still was to _all_ of them. He knew too that he couldn’t have been the first to offer a bit of himself to allow others the same. “Arthur, I mean no disrespect, but do you think me adding any more tonight is going to benefit either of us? Knowing something and understanding it, or what to even _do_ with that knowledge is not the same.”

 The Prince’s pinched expression was its own answer. “How long have they been hiding things? Our enemies can see it, why couldn’t our friends.”  
“Arthur, Uther does not take criticism well. The neighbouring kingdoms didn’t _have_ to do anything. They may have benefited in some ways, but they did not come in and _steal_ skilled craftsmen.”  
“Gwaine, the man you told me to speak to has spent decades _not_ training a replacement. He made _no plans_ to have a replacement, took on no boys at all. I _know_ he can teach anyone, because he taught _me_ during a stubborn phase.”  
That sounded to the knight like a thankless task indeed, “Then find out what the _reason_ is for the decision, because he wouldn’t have taught you properly if he didn’t wish you to succeed.”  
“Gwaine, he _didn’t_ teach me properly!” The Prince tried to keep his voice down, the last thing he wanted was to attract attention.

The knight spread his hands to include the scrolls that covered the table. “Arthur, he taught you what was _legal_ , all those things that didn’t carry the death penalty. Perhaps if you go to him _now_ , a mostly-mature adult with his own thoughts, and ask him, he may answer you and help fill in the gaps. If he didn’t _want_ to help you he wouldn’t have given you these documents for reference, if he’d decided not to oblige me, I’d never have _found_ the things. I believe he has done some _terrible_ things, but not that he wishes to see the end of Camelot, or your downfall. Look at me and tell me _you_ haven’t done anything you regret. Serious things. _I_ can’t do it. Perce can’t. Merlin can’t. All of whom are _good men_.”

Arthur’s hands were trembling as he placed them on the desk. “This is going to change things, isn’t it?”

Gwaine flinched but didn’t look away, keeping his tone even. “Yes Arthur. If you let it. If you find the courage to face it.”

Arthur examined Gwaine closely, studied him. “You _believe I can_.”  
“You are my King, Arthur. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The Prince smiled softly at his friend, “Yes you would. You’re Merlin’s as much as mine.”

Gwaine returned it, “Merlin is yours before anyone’s, he always will be, and I knew that from the beginning.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, “That really doesn’t bother you?”

Gwaine squinted at him, “Of course it does, the pair of you are mad and have no sense of _self_ -preservation, but if he’s always got your back, I have his, which means _you_ concentrate better on not _needing_ intervention. If you are willing Sire, I would offer to do more another night of this with you, but there is more than enough to explore right now, and you already have the basics of a plan in mind. My presence will be more hindrance for you than help, and we both know it.”

“No, you’re free to go Sir Gwaine. I have… more than enough here. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

“Thanks for not having me arrested” Gwaine half-bowed. “You want the guards back?

“Let them take the doors that lead here, I suspect this may prompt a scene I would not wish to be common castle gossip.” He lifted the book of names.

“Goodnight then Sire.”

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 Gwaine was absolutely exhausted. He hadn’t let his own feelings about all of the tangled web on the _surface_ let alone deeper show. Inside he was screaming.

Merlin’s acceptance of it without requiring an explanation was unexpectedly soothing.

When he was woken by the man thrashing and screaming, trapped in an apparent nightmare, he returned the gesture, waking him without asking questions.

He’d slept on hunts without ever seeing it this bad, but he’d certainly seen plenty of Merlin ‘going for a walk’, and quieter things so what could cause _that_ reaction he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The tremors took a long time to fade after.

Unable to go back to sleep Merlin sat up, waking Gwaine just enough to form words, “M’lin mate? You gonna go do som’thn stupid?”

Throat aching he shook his head. “No. Thanks Gwaine, it’s still dark, there’s just enough left. Gonna see ‘Garrah. Can I come back?”

“Not scared of locks are you?”

Merlin shook his head, “No.”  
“‘S’fine then. Tell h’m I know.” Gwaine frowned, his voice not forming the syllables he wanted it too.

“Go to sleep Gwaine.”

The man didn’t argue. Unlike Merlin, magic wouldn’t keep _him_ awake.

Merlin barely bothered to hide, only casting a quick concealment and _running._ He was sure he shouldn’t have been able to move so fast, it was _strange._ Reaching their clearing Merlin let go, roaring to the sky, knees buckling. He didn’t remember a time that Kilgarrah had reacted as quickly that didn’t involve serkets.

The dragon took in Merlin’s broken appearance and for once mercifully didn’t ask, just curling around him, a protective mountain no man would dare challenge as Merlin wept. Dragons weren’t really designed for hugs he thought, but letting him lean against his neck was probably as close as they could get.

The skies opened above them as Merlin broke, the two knights finally allowing him to see grief and healing, the torrential rain and rolling thunder was noted by fewer than a handful in Camelot, and less understood it’s cause. When he finally felt able to move without anything else exploding Merlin leaned his forehead against Kilgarrah’s. “I am so very, very sorry my friend.”

“ _Merlin_ , you cannot change the past. You gave _me_ back my freedom.”

The Warlock looked up to his kin with a calm certainty, “I could.”

“ _Merlin!_ Promise me you won’t try to meddle with time. Not even to save my brethren. That would be… Even _I_  do not know what it would do to the balance, but I do know your heart would be lost, even if _you_ yourself still came to exist.”

Merlin pressed harder against Kilgarrah. “I can’t stop seeing it, all of them, over and over, so _many_. How do you do it? How do I survive this Kilgarrah?”

The dragon blew warm magic over him, easing some of the ache. “You remind yourself that you are Merlin. That you are better than that. You wake up each day and remind yourself of what is still beautiful, and good. Then you realise what you _are_ to the Old Religion.”

“What if the beauty has faded?” Kilgarrah’s eyes filled with pain, and love. Merlin had missed it before. Maybe he just hadn’t been looking.

“Come. Fly with me. Let me remind you.”

The tears still fell but Merlin managed a laugh, “What happened to ‘I am not a horse’?”

“I remembered the joy of flying with company. We are short of full darkness my Lord, hurry up.”

“You’re going with ‘My Lord’ today instead of ‘young warlock’?”

Kilgarrah turn his head to look at Merlin as he climbed on, “Well I thought you’d prefer it to Emrys but if you’d rather?”

“You know what, Kilgarrah? I don’t care. You’re here. We’re here. Let’s fly.”

The dragon grinned as he launched them upwards.

Very little clears a mind like freefall. Or spinning, and flirting with storm clouds. Gathering the thunder shouldn’t have been calming him the way it was. Ooh, he was going to get into trouble for drawing with the lightning. He’d worry about it tomorrow. People didn’t like to believe in _proper_ magic anyway. Much easier to think it was something else.

When they returned to earth Merlin could think far more clearly.

He really needed to find some less illegal stress management.

“Sorry I called you for something so… insignificant as a nightmare.”

Kilgarrah shook his head sadly, “That was many things Merlin, but it was not insignificant. Never fear calling me for grief, or to stop from razing half of Albion.” He raised a draconic brow.

“Yeah. That… that would be a _Bad Thing_.” Merlin scowled.

“It really would, Young warlock. However would Albion rise if you have squashed it?”

If dragons could smile less like they were considering eating someone that might have worked better, but fortunately Kilgarrah really did prefer deer.

“Thank you Old friend.”

“I will be listening My Lord.”

Merlin started running moments after the Great dragon left, getting back to Gwaine barely a half hour before he was meant to get up again.

The warmth was probably worth it, even if sleep was a lost cause. Looping an arm around Merlin’s waist as he used Gwaine to warm his extremities the knight muttered to him just about coherently. “Thanks for not breaking the castle mate, Maybe cut down on the artistic lightning next time.”

Merlin was left to stare at the ceiling while Gwaine snored. He knew. He thought the storm was Merlin, and went to sleep. Next to him. Deliberately. The guy who had woken him almost violently,  got upset, and played with lightning.  
That was both counter intuitive, and shocking to the warlock, and bounced around in his mind for the whole time he lay there.

 This time he was completely unsurprised by the young ghost’s appearance as he was washing up, “Good morning Eileen, how was it?”

She frowned at him, which was new. “I saw the storm, Merlin. I heard your dream- only because I was concentrating on dreams then, I wasn’t meaning to pry. Are you- what happened?”

Merlin sighed. “A great deal happened, and many things were… understood. It will take time I think. I think I can deal with seeing Lachlan again. Kilgarrah helped.”

“Really?” She looked sceptical of the dragon’s ability to be ‘helpful’.

Merlin nodded. “Really.”

“The lightning was pretty. Next time can you do roses?”

It drew a chuckle from him, “Flowers I can do, Eileen, just don’t ask for fruit.”

“You know you’re a very strange man, Merlin, but I like you.”

He sighed, “That’s probably just as well, I suspect I’m going to be here long enough you might be one of the few to remember that.” The ghost reached and took his hand in hers.

“You will not be alone unless you choose to be, Emrys.”

 It was true, realised Merlin. For the first time, that statement might actually be _true._ Except that until today he had been too afraid to show anyone _Emrys_ . Merlin, yes. It’s just that the _other_ side of him, the reason he’d run, the reason he hadn’t been able to face Gaius, or serve near Uther, the thing that could accidentally pull someone’s life force to another body had been certain to send them fleeing. In his own heart, Merlin rather thought that might be the right reaction. The sane one at least.

Clearly his friends were severely short on common sense.

 He had waited as long as he really could, avoiding the physicians quarters whenever there was a chance _he_ might be home, but it couldn’t last forever, and he wouldn’t let people suffer for his own emotional trauma _again_. It was probably time though that he began collecting some of his own equipment even if he was only seeing to the knights and Arthur on a regular basis. Merlin was servant first, physician second, but practical. Perhaps he could put together just a basic kit. Either way, he had to go and restock the herbs, the last of the fresh ones would no longer be ‘fresh’ now. He might be able to talk Gwen into being company while he sorted them in his home. It didn’t _feel_ like home right now. If he wasn’t so afraid he’d blow something up he’d probably have moved into his _actual_ servants room by now.  

He really hoped Arthur hadn’t noticed the details of the storm. Perhaps he’d call off training.

Arthur did not. In fact the man seemed as angry and distressed as Merlin had been the past two nights.

Merlin was shocked usually with him, Arthur would reduced the power he used, just slightly. Today it felt like a proper test.

Yet he believed Gwaine when he said it wasn’t _him_ that Arthur was angry about, meeting Arthur’s eyes, the rage and raw pain exposed.

After everything he’d faced and confronted recently Merlin snapped. If they were doing this, _fine_. He’d rage and pain enough for all Camelot. The sky clouding over was what drew him back shocked, and Arthur’s mouth settled in a grim line.

He’d pushed further than he ever had before, and once Merlin had caved and returned it, he’d only _really_ defended. Even when gold fire flickered just around the edges of his irises. The stunned look when Merlin immediately stopped after the suddenly darkened sky clinched it for him.

Which way to take it indeed. Aye. Focused on saving lives, no courtly training or care for politics, no sense of self preservation and the heart of a warrior without armour.

It seemed Arthur had a great deal of research to be doing, and some old men to interview who were making it very, very difficult not to just throw them all in the dungeon for a few weeks until he felt better.

It was a relief to _both_ of them when Arthur dismissed Merlin to attend to other things, in favour of beating Gwaine round the field with various weapons as punishment for making him _notice Important Things._

If everyone was so complicated, he almost hoped they would keep lying.

Late though he was, Gwaine made proper eye contact with Merlin who remained on the sidelines, as always, and nodded confidently at him. The sheer relief and joy on the man’s face was more open than anything he seen from Merlin before. It was in that moment he truly understood how isolated and close to breaking the man had been.


	26. Chapter 26

Arthur was more self contained than usual as Merlin helped him out of his armour and mail. Not insulting him or teasing as was frequent between them. It _had_ though been a particularly stressful time, and Merlin couldn’t say he was exactly contributing to their usual dynamic or banter either.  
The Prince had _people_ to speak to before he approached Merlin himself with his suspicions. Conclusions. Damn Gwaine; and sorceresses, and _especially_ idiot manservants.

"Arthur, I need to go out to get some herbs for- uhm, healing. It’ll take most of the afternoon, when does your armour need to be finished by?”

The Prince closed his eyes, if he looked he’d see _just Merlin_ he knew, and that would distort his focus. Merlin hadn’t been here long enough to be responsible for any of the cracks, and he’d seen the man behind the mask again on the field. As he had in his chambers, briefly, and in the clearing that night. “I’ve spare. As long as it’s done by tomorrow I’m not in a rush, I have a ridiculous amount of paperwork to get through, because apparently being regent means I’m  supposed to grow another couple of hands, or possibly divide myself in two- which would in reality be _horrific_ \- or they believe my day has become longer. I don’t know. I’d send the lot of them home, except that would inflict their incompetence on the masses unchecked.”

His servant looked troubled, “You’re giving me time? You never do that. What’s wrong?”

“ _Merlin_ , I am this crown prince of Camelot, _nothing_ is wrong, and even if it was, I could literally declare something right, just to stop it being wrong and they’d all _say_ I was right. At least to my face. Oh, god. You’ve been here too long, the idiocy must be catching. Between you and Gwaine I’m beginning to think we might have an epidemic. Add _that_ to your chore list too; an idiocy screening. Maybe for the court after the lower town, it might be good to keep people on their toes- why are you still here? Move Merlin. Go do your polishing or flower picking, or _whatever it is_ you do when I’m not there.”

“Okaaay, well, maybe a mild sedative, or sleeping draught, or an unsupervised date with Gwen is in order. You sound really stressed. Sorry, leaving, right now, _sire."_

_“Merlin.”_

_“Shut up?”_

“Exactly.”

 The younger man left with the armful of armour, sword, and chainmail.

Bent over his desk Arthur shuddered.

If he was _right_ , and he was _almost_ sure he was, he have a Very Big Problem to deal with.

He was almost certain that lightning was supposed to _only_ by jagged and forked, or sheet lightning. He was even more sure that it wasn’t supposed to look like butterflies, flaming dragons, pretty girls, or expletives. Whoever it was seemed pretty pissed, and happier as they opted for a light display. There weren’t many people who would _use_ the power of manipulating the fucking _sky_ to form butterflies and dragons, and even fewer of them in Camelot. How did one go about _asking_ knights if they’d seen that? Or even the different colours between forks? If he did, Gwaine would refuse to answer, and they all had some trust issues right now. Gwen had noticed the tension, and asked, and Arthur had snapped at her. She went off hurt and now _Elyan_ was glaring at him, but seriously? They had _no idea_.

 Gwaine _hadn’t_ told him who fathered Merlin.

Arthur had sat down and attempted to remember any time Merlin might have been _weird_ enough or _quiet_ enough to have just found out who he was between Ealdor and now. He’d only come up with a few, though it  did reflect how familiar they were, so wasn’t exactly reliable. There were a few notable occasions, but very few _fit._

 _Merlin_ didn’t fit. Hunith on the genealogy _had to be_ the same Hunith as Merlin’s mother. She was the right age, she knew Gaius. On the genealogy though, there was a space that was _clean_ next to a joining symbol. Hunith had married before the final line underneath had been drawn, and the man’s name fully removed. Trying to trace it back was fruitless, it was one of the entire lines that were removed.  
Gwaine had said Merlin’s _bloodline_ was missing. It had to be something passed down, something they _needed_ to cut off completely, but what if some it had failed? A small number who slipped through the cracks. Arthur could see it happening. An entire dungeon couldn’t just empty, but one or two folk, or a ‘gathering trip’ someone didn’t return from. _He’d_ believe a report like that. Any knight who had gone on patrol would.

Hunith had left because of who she was tied to, Arthur was certain of it.

She- and possibly the man- had left _everything_ thoroughly enough as to be recorded dead, and decided Merlin was _safer_ as a peasant bastard than by blood-right. What on earth could make it so dangerous that _this_ was their choice. He couldn’t think of anything at all that didn’t involve magic. Magic strong enough to inspire fear, or _certain_ to be inherited. A family well enough known that their only way of avoiding exposure was to fake deaths.

Maybe Gwaine had a point about some of his ‘only bad choices’ theories. It didn’t mean Arthur had to like it.  
Well, with his ever-present manservant out of the way he couldn’t afford to waste time, so the Prince set off in the direction of the library, those who saw him scattering and giving him an indication of what he must be projecting.

Usually Arthur’s manners to people who _weren’t Merlin_ were impeccable. This time he didn’t even knock, opening the doors with far more force than was needed.

Lord Geoffrey looked up from the journal he appeared to be writing in, “Ah. Welcome sire. Have you perhaps run out of suitable parchment?” There wasn’t a thing different about the archivist that was different to any other occasion. Arthur thought it might be that which bothered him most, not a single tic, avoidance, no hint of guilt or pretence. He folded his arms across his chest. “Lord Geoffrey I think we both know that’s not why I am here.”  
“Well, it _has_ been a while since _you_ specifically sought my resources, you cannot blame a man for being somewhat sceptical of whispers.”  
Arthur inclined his head, “Quite. Though from what I hear you are something of an expert in those. Tell me Geoffrey, how long have you lived in Camelot?”

“All my life, Sire.” He indicated no nervousness, despite Arthur’s own lack of calm.  
“And it has been a very _long_ life, has it not?”

Geoffrey sighed, “It has _felt_ a great deal longer, but yes, one might say that.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “Then you won’t mind me making use of that _very long memory_ of yours I am sure. It appears that there are missing records. Whole swathes in fact, that rather concern me, and I wonder if you might be _persuaded_ to help me fill in the blanks. After all, I am sure that a capable man such as yourself would not have negligently _misplaced_ such important information.”

A smile pulled at the corner of the old man’s mouth. “Seeing you grown to this gladdens my heart Sire, you will of course have my aid. I am entirely at your service.”

Arthur’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he took the seat the Lord indicated, taking a deep breath before he began. Questions about generalities later, questions Merlin must never overhear first, he knew his priorities now.

“Tell me Geoffrey, what do you remember about a young woman by the name of Hunith? She was married here not much over twenty years ago, according to the record, before it ‘terminates’.”

“May I ask why you wish to know Sire?”

Arthur smiled, it felt remarkably similar to the thrill of the hunt, this pursuit of specific knowledge. “You may, but I am under no obligation to tell you. Does is help if I assure you I’ve no intention of harming her _or_ her family.”

“But Sire, the records say her family no longer exists.”

Arthur raised a brow at the old man, “They also say that Gwaine is a common knight, yet we both know it is not so. More importantly still they say that Gorlois is the Father of Lady Morgana- which we _will_ be coming back to, by the way, _later._ ”

Geoffrey sat back, checking his door. “Draw the curtains across, it muffles the noises inside, the acoustics cannot be fundamentally altered, but I have tried my best to soundproof it in the absence of an easier way.”

“You mean magic?” Arthur asked bluntly, trying to judge who he was _really_ dealing with.

“Ah-ah, I said _easier way,_ and of course, there is no easy way of performing such a feat in the absence of one who has it. I am sure you are not confessing _you_ possess _magic_ to me, Sire?” The archivist’s eyes gleamed.

The Prince’s lips quirked upwards as he remembered why Geoffrey was the one tutor who finally managed to _force_ him to learn. “Certainly not Lord Geoffrey, but of course if there was one who _did_ it would be _problematic_ with such a thing being _illegal_ and such a frivolous use would be foolish.”

“I agree completely Sire.” He got the feeling that the old librarian was evaluating _him_ intensely as he was his old tutor.

“One might even say you’d have to be _an idiot_ to attempt such a thing.” Arthur shifted, lacing his fingers together watching the man’s reaction carefully.

Geoffrey stroked his beard thoughtfully. “One might, but such a suggestion would be extremely dangerous to _all_ who visited a library that was benefiting from such a shield, don’t you think, Sire?”  
It was risky. Arthur knew it was. In front of him sat a man who could either show him, or at the very least _offer a map_ to the truths he needed, _or_ a man who conspired against him and would feed them poison at a delicate stage. He considered carefully his position. The information was _necessary_ , the possible payoff a more sustainable kingdom, but the risk was just as great should Geoffrey be testing the difference between father and son.

Arthur had once thought he knew the library well, and now he realised it was something else entirely. No. The majority of this would have to be done on _his_ ground.

“I do. Lord Geoffrey. There is only so much that heavy drapes and rugs can soften and mute the noise that assaults a man over time here; perhaps there are certain _tones_ , or _voices_ that require a different approach, more _tailored_ to a specific task. Morgana’s piercing tones as a youth for example must have penetrated particularly easily, where a lower, less _interesting_ voice like your own would be far more easily drowned out.”

“My Lord, I believe we have a great deal to discuss about potential tapestries, and retired scenes that might be reused here effectively with but little repair.” Geoffrey’s smile was an odd cross between wolfish and great joy.

“I have come to believe we ought to consider a change of decor Lord Geoffrey. It will require quite extensive discussions to address _sensibly._ Curtain length. _Acceptable materials and those that may be dangerous. Colours even._ Come to my chambers after the evening meal, alone, there is much to discuss indeed.”

The archivist was still smiling, “I look forward to it Sire. Now let me tell you about a young girl I once knew, and the otherwise fearless boy whom she scolded for scorching her books.”

Just as he had been leaving, reeling from what he’d learned. Geoffrey had asked him something rather pointed. “What do you wish me to do if an idiot should show up asking for books  irrelevant to their position?”

Arthur had raised an eyebrow and made sure to look directly at the man, “Don't be silly. All books are relevant to healers. They have open access. Obstruction of that could be very dangerous.”

Geoffrey was beaming, even though he had in essence just informed the man that they were covering the magic user and he was planning to relax the laws. However had he covered his sympathies so long wondered the prince.

 Arthur left with more questions than answers but the few he gained were taking all of his concentration to deal with.  
There was no point in attempting his paperwork. None.  
Abandoning it as a lost cause he decided his best option was to go riding. The castle was making things worse. Taking Llamrei out would help, and they both needed it.    
Outside _had_ to be better, and it should have been, except that he managed to choose the most unfortunate direction to ride in to be abruptly reminded that this afternoon _outside_ had _Merlin_. Dragon Lord Merlin. Who was magical. Secretly and very illegally.

Quite likely _powerful_ Merlin, who was glaring at a tree as though it had personally wronged him, from a cross legged position on the ground. He brought Llamrei to a stop next to his currently-still-a- manservant.

“Merlin?”

“Yes Arthur?”

“Are you aware that this tree is on fire?”

“Yes Arthur.”

“Merlin, _why_ is the tree on fire?” His life seemed to have derailed quite significantly recently.

“Because smiting physicians is wrong, Arthur.”

The Prince nodded as though that made perfect sense. It made about as much sense as anything else today. “I see.”

“…..”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur tried again. “Merlin are any _other_ trees on fire? Should I be worried.”

“No Arthur. The fire is small.”

“Good, that's…. Good. Merlin?”

“Yes Arthur?”

“Don't get too carried away. I’d have to fire you if you burned down my favourite hunting grounds.”

“You’d get bored within the week and rehire me.”

Arthur wanted to disagree. He really, _really_ did, but it seemed a bit pointless at this stage.

“Don’t be late back.”

Arthur turned Llamrei, shaking his head, and rode hard in the opposite direction. His life recently had begun to seem rather surreal. Having spent the night with various documents and deep in thought, personally _he_ was feeling a lot more open to physician smiting this week than last, but Merlin didn't need to know that. It wasn’t likely to help, and they really couldn’t afford to be without Gaius yet. Dungeons weren’t the same thing as smiting though…

The Merlin who periodically wandered around his mind yelled at him. Yeah, it probably was _almost_ the same if one took into account Arthur’s inability to go around doing that.

Merlin returned with plenty of time to spare, the plants needed sorted before they began deteriorating. It didn’t require concentration anymore, he trimmed everything, keeping knives separate, tied and hung them to dry. The things that required infused he set up to do so, and got out the pestle and mortar. He hadn’t got everything by any means, but there were some herbs and supplies they just went through _fast._ Certain poultices, morning afters, wolf’s bane, dandelions.

Stripping what was needed into the bowl he efficiently began to grind the powder. His current disdain and revulsion of the man who had been as good as a father to him didn’t mean he wanted to cause him actual _pain_ preparing ingredients. That could change, thought Merlin, should he actually _see_ the man. 

Gwaine sat with Merlin as they waited for the reactions to occur. “So. Not that I mind it at all but are you going to tell me why you're staying with me most nights instead of here now?”

Merlin sighed, it was complicated. So complicated. “Gwaine, did you know how bad Morgana’s visions were? It was awful. When I came here, she didn't sleep naturally, she woke up screaming every night. They kept offering stronger draughts, more potent, and even I knew that there was a limit to how long that could be done. I figured she'd only started having them so frequently recently, but I was wrong. She's lived with it since she was 6, every night, and they left her to scream in the dark. She had no idea what was happening. Neither did _I_ , but _my_ mother never made a habit of burning boys like me and making me watch.

Who does that? What kind of _healer_ does that? Just leaves some _child_ to scream? He couldn’t have taught her control at all- he’s not a Seer, or Witch, but he could have told her the truth. Instead of offering false hope and draughts, and the potions made her _sleep_ but by the end they also made her _sick._ They knew it would never work. She should have had a choice, some dignity, or _sanity._ I had maybe 3 safe opportunities to tell her, and I blew it terribly, but Gaius had over a decade watching her every night. Making the decision every single time she was afraid. They left her mostly in the hands of a girl only a couple of years older than herself, from the new magic-is-evil generation.

When they killed the first wave, he didn't even fight, he watched from Uther’s side, figuring that would be the end, the _grief_ purged. He saved my parents, but how many others died? I don't want to become like that and he was shaping me into it. Following the same path of walking only in shadows. I decided to be honest. Not tell people everything that happened, or that _does happen_ , just stop going out of my way to lie.”

Merlin’s expression dropped as he continued, he didn’t _like_ conflict as a rule but this ran too deep to ignore.

“We argued. It didn't go well. He knew who my father was, and decided not to tell me. I lost any chance of knowing the man and every night I slept in the next room, Gaius knew where he was. Who was I going to tell? Uther? ‘Oh hi, I know you’re a complete psycho who gets off on killing us, but my Dad’s actually a Dragonlord and I’m the next one, fancy an ale?’  
He knew immediately when we needed one where to find Balinor. I should have realised then, but I was kind of overwhelmed with the whole him being alive at all thing, and then the grief and power surge drowned higher thought out a bit. My own minor problems just weren’t a priority with the rebuilding, guilt aside. From the very first day we met he _knew_ . I asked if I was a monster. If he knew why I was like this, he said no. Sure, there are elements we didn’t understand then, but he lied, he _knew_ my father had natural magic. I think it’s the first time I really _got_ why Morgana did what she did, why she can’t forgive anyone, no-one knew everything, but we all knew a _little bit_. By the time I could have helped in any practical way it was too late. I knew not a single spell before getting here, everything was instinct, nothing was with particular finesse, I’d probably cringe at myself now. She wouldn’t have been alone, but she’d also have been in more danger and so would I, that’s one thing Gaius wasn’t wrong about.”

“You think you’d have been outed?”

Merlin snorted and looked to his friend in amusement. “I think that I was an infatuated 17 year old and she was desperate for understanding, what do you think Gwaine? Hell, if I didn’t end up on the pyre for an over-emotional jealousy reaction I’d have ended up on the block for inappropriate behaviour with the king’s daughter. She was court- schooled in seduction, and I’d have practically volunteered. I’d have outed _myself._ ”

“Dear goddess, tell me you’re over _that_!”

Merlin shrugged and grinned at him, “What can I say? I’ve a thing for dark hair and people who can fight back. For me, there aren’t that many.”  
“Really Merlin?” Gwaine arched a brow at him.

“Gwaine, you told me told me off for _adjusting_ the lightning, what do you think?”

His friend feigned considering his answer, “Well it _was_ very impressive. I didn’t know that lightning butterflies were a thing.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Fuck off Gwaine, I’d like to see _you_ try.”  
He laughed, “At least _one_ of the dragon’s was Camelot’s.”

“Hmm, It did help get rid off some of the energy though.”

The knight grimaced, “I bet. Tell me you weren’t actually _in_ the storm mate, and did it from the ground.”

“.....”

“ _Merlin?!”_ Gwaine didn’t _quite_ shout.

“I told you I was trying to give up active lying.”

He stared at the younger man, open mouthed, “You are a bloody idiot, you know that?”

“I was safe. Kilgarrah was there.” Merlin appeared genuinely puzzled by the concern of his friend.  
“Was he? Well that _obviously_ assures me you’d be in no danger.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.  
“Hey! Don’t knock flying or sky diving till you’ve tried.” Merlin couldn’t hold back the grin at the memory.

Gwaine paused as though understanding something, “Wait- go back to the part where you are diving through a storm.”  
Shaking his head Merlin’s grin morphed into a calmer smile, “Nothing blanks out past and future like it.”

“I know asking you not to jump won’t work, but please pick a less thundery bit next time.”

“Gwaine I’m pretty sure I’m lightning proof.” There was an unnerving certainty to that statement.

“That’s no excuse to _test it_.”

“Ah, knights, such _worriers_ underneath.”

“Only about you.” Gwaine’s voice was serious this time and brought Merlin up short.

Biting his lip as he considered the ramifications of something, the warlock glance up at his friend, groaning slightly as he decided and rucked up his tunic, showing one side of his torso.

“Here, look, that’s where I was hit last time, you can barely see it.”

Gwaine growled.

“Let me show you. I can take you up safely.”

Gwaine paused, it wasn’t something he’d have another chance to try.

“On a clear night, I’ll even make it dry.”

His  Dragonlord friend watched him, it was something he’d clearly not shown anyone before and wanted to, something _his_ that he was offering to share to explain things.

“I solemnly swear not to dive _off_ or _with_ Kilgarrah and scare you.”

Nodding seriously only once, Gwaine flicked into mad adventure gear, “When do you want to go?”  
Merlin cast a look up at the sky, “Maybe give it a day or two to settle down, I upset a couple of air currents there- like wind but _bigger,_ it’s hard to explain.”

“Two nights then, as long as your uh- kin? Doesn’t have any objections.”  
“He likes screwing with humans, and approves of you for some incomprehensible reason. You’ll make his night.”

Getting up to stir his strange smelling concoction Merlin looked over at the knight who was sprawled rather untidily on the intended patient’s bench.

“Percival told me about Dana last night. I told him _something._ I know how she died Gwaine. _Who_ was it- and yes it _does_ matter.”

Gwaine sighed and set his face in the lines they often did when loss came up, “Bounty hunters Merlin, looking for someone to take to Uther.”

“Gwaine, what was the name? _Who_ was it.”

“Merlin, you look pale. Why is this important to you?”  
“The timing. Do. You. Know.”

“Halig. Why?” …… “Talk to me Merlin, you’re shaking.”

“Don’t touch me right now Gwaine, it’ would be a very bad idea, it’s just… _rage_. The man’s dead already. Please take the mixture off the heat, I’ll see you as soon I won’t accidentally hurt you. Going to the cavern under the castle if you need me.” Merlin walked stiffly from the room and Gwaine wondered how easily he actually could do it.

Ten minutes later when the plates rattled on the shelves he reckoned he had his answer.

It was a good thing that Merlin left when he did as not long afterwards Gaius returned. Seeing Gwaine he looked about for Merlin, not quite keeping the disappointment from showing. “The works done Gaius.” He nodded towards the table, bundles, and bunker.

“If you should see Merlin, Gwaine,-”

“I’m not a go between for you, and it’s _Sir_ Gwaine. Sometimes a man makes a mistake so grave it can’t be fixed. If you want to badly enough, it’s gonna cost you just as dear in return. Actions have consequences. These are yours, Physician.”

The knight left and didn’t look back. It wasn’t his fight. This was between Gaius and Merlin alone.

 Merlin had walked down to the cavern avoiding contact with anyone else, or anything else. He didn’t _want_ to understand Morgana. He could forgive Arthur for things he had done in ignorance. Some he was for responsible himself. Gaius… Gaius was not ignorant, he was canny, and some of his actions were justifiable, even by Merlin, but so many could have been done differently. _Better._

Most of the time something as simple as a name, or a memory, wouldn’t have tipped him over the edge, but after so many things had been understood, and some _pried_ from his mentor he was operating at a volatile level. He had to find a way to fix it. To bring back balance. To himself. To Magic.    
Pouring surplus magic into the rock that lay next to Camelot’s vaults was unwise, but it was better than any of his immediate alternatives. Merlin plunged his fists into Kilgarrah’s ledge and let go, trying to slow it enough to cause only mild tremors. The relief from the coiled angry magic and the roiling need for a revenge that was long since out of reach was immense and left him gasping.

From the shadows emerged the form of the Dragonlord who had spent so long near this place, before Kilgarrah was free.

“I saw you come down here when you first arrived. No idea how important you were, or who Kilgarrah would become to you, just wanting the lizard to shut up and let you sleep. I heard you tell him that there must be another Arthur.” The ghost chuckled. “You were absolutely right too. He _was_ a prat. Whoever would have thought he could become the once and future king just by having you at his side.”

Merlin stood up and steadied himself on the grizzled man’s shoulder, “He has a long we to go still.”  
The man cocked his head toward the youth at his side. “He’s closer than you think, Merlin. Did you know that he glared at me and warned me not to hurt you? _Without_ seeing.”

“Well you thoroughly failed at that.” He sighed, “No wonder Eileen thinks they’re all mad.”

“All men have their vices but your friends are loyal and true.”

Merlin leaned into the contact, such coldness of touch was strange. “Aye. One told me off for going flying.” Lachlan laughed. “Yes, I saw. Can’t say I ever went up in quite such rough weather myself, but your father came as close as I’ve seen without the light show.”

“It helps. Merlin shrugged.

“As well it should. Dragonlord.” The gruff voice was warmer than it should be, and though Merlin was glad Gwaine had agreed to try it, it was nice to see someone who understood the _call_ of the sky.

“Go. You will be missed, and you promised _not_ to be late. Again.”

“Oh, goddess, I was hoping I’d imagined that.”  
“Nope. Sorry lad. Seems a bit on the late side to be running though.”

“I’m done running.”

The old dragonlord grinned, glad not to stay longer at his old haunt. “About time too. You are Merlin, son of Hunith, and you are _Emrys_ , son of the Old religion. There _is_ no need to choose between the two halves of yourself. Bind them together, become the man that you _can be._ The other side of your coin is waiting My Lord. Be ready.” There was no mockery in his words, and no exaltation in the title. Lachlan spoke as if it was simple. As though it should always have been. Merlin supposed that in many ways that was true.  
He had been little more than a child when the burden was placed upon him unprepared. He was _not_ that child any more. Young, yes. Too young by many people’s standards, but there was no one else, and if he failed, there never would be. Magic would fail.

The Warlock of legends raised a hand to return the gesture.

“Together then. Emrys; and the Once and future King.”

After their earlier very careful non-conversation earlier Arthur wasn’t really expecting the touch of mania in Merlin’s eyes when he came up to help Arthur prepare for dinner with his father.

What shocked him more was Merlin turning round and saying very seriously to him; “I apologise Sire, but I cannot serve you at this meal tonight, George has been assigned to take my place.”

Arthur glared at him “Merlin you can’t just stop doing your job as my manservant.”

His servant didn’t falter, “It’s important this time. _Very_ important as it happens.”

“Riiiight, many things are important to you Merlin. Give me _one good reason_ why I should let you skive this tonight after you practically took half the day off.”  
Merlin frowned, “Firstly, that was very much _not_ off, I was working, and secondly, in my mind the tree was your father. And Gaius. There was a second tree. Just the two. Your hunting grounds are fine.”

Arthur paused. The trees he could attest to being true. It wasn’t a _threat._ The man could have been talking about how if the prince slept in he’d be late to council as a consequence.

“That… that _is_ a very good reason. George sounds delightful. I believe you and I are overdue a very long talk, Merlin.”  
“I agree Sire, far, far too much has been hidden for far too long. We have more to discuss Sire than you are aware of.”

“You haven’t seen my new collection of documents” Arthur grinned evilly, “You, my friend, have a _lot_ of reading to do. Perhaps you’d come and discuss the appropriate colour of library drapes with Lord Geoffrey and I tomorrow night. Your input would be valuable to our upcoming restoration effort.”

Yep. Merlin was right, tournaments and clunking each other about with swords was bad for you. The prince had finally had one knock too many.

“Don’t look at me like that Merlin, I’m not the one who keeps trying to make a date with the executioner. Really, if it’s all the same to you, just ask him, he likes meat pies and stolen wine. Save me the paperwork.”

“You’re not sounding less damaged, Arthur.”

Giving up the Prince decided leaving was better than shaking the idiot, trying one last time before opening the door to possible eavesdroppers, “And Merlin?”

_“Yes Sire."_

“Tone down the lightning you idiot. It’s very hard to sleep through.”  

Maybe the ghost of some relative was right. Sure, the Once and Future King was a prat, but he might have been protecting the correct Arthur after all. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	27. Chapter 27

 

Dinner with his father was excruciating. He wasn’t sure if it was the bent cutlery or new dent in the goblet he had to fill that gave away his state of mind but George was polite even for Boring George. Arthur was beginning to understand why it might be a good idea for a man who accidentally pulled clouds towards him to _not_ serve Uther’s table on a bad day. Actually he was beginning to wonder how any of them were still alive while the forest still stood. God knows _he_ he used Merlin to get rid of stress and yes, _now_ most of their bickering was friendly, but at the start it had been absolutely genuine...and Arthur really _had_ been a prat. _Then_ there was everything with Morgana; but if Merlin could stay calm through _that_ Arthur was concerned at what could have happened to change things. The word ‘fuck’ by lightning was not the expression of a calm mind. The simple weird colours hadn’t caught his attention, sane people would have stopped at that. The least sane people in Camelot were probably Arthur’s inner circle, a thought which he quickly tried to suppress by yelling ‘Leon’, and ‘Lancelot’ at it.

 Arthur wasn’t sure whether he was more or less relieved that Merlin looked like he’d been caught stealing cake when he left. It meant his guess was almost certainly right, but it wasn’t _that_ huge a leap really. Geoffrey’s story of a young Hunith making a boy called Balinor apologise and copy out the pages he’d damaged was something he could well imagine, but he had only heard of one of them, ever, and _he_ had died protecting Merlin; and just like that it fit.

Everything fit together when Balinor’s name was placed in the empty space by Hunith’s.

Merlin’s reaction to his death, the way he was on the trip- met his father only once.

Why it was _safer_ for him to be raised with no known father at all, why it made sense to the strategist in him to have the only two remaining individuals who could command dragons in separate locations. The expunging of a whole line. Easier to do if they are together. A married couple flees and a bereaved widow or unmarried mother arrives somewhere new? Having Hunith known about already would possibly deter a Balinor from returning to free the great dragon earlier and use it to attack them, because after seeing what he’d been reduced to, Arthur had to wonder what stopped him. It being Merlin didn’t make sense. Otherwise they’d have shown recognition, and Balinor would have come for _Merlin_ not agreed that _Gaius_ was a good man. Could it be possible that He hadn’t _known_ Merlin?

 As far as Arthur was concerned he had full confirmation that Geoffrey was one of those hiding things from him, and protecting anyone he thought deserved or earned it. He knew Gwaine’s heritage, he had filled in the blank space next to Hunith, despite pointing out that there was no longer such a family. He _hadn’t_ expected the archivist to be uncooperative without confirmations of Arthur’s good intentions towards them, but it made him more inclined to believe in the man’s sincerity of seeing a _peaceful_ return of the exiles. Or to decriminalising at least _some_ types of magic.  
He would have been angrier about that discovery if he hadn’t opened the book of names.

He’d avoided it after Gwaine left, considering the other things. The reduction of council positions, and reallocation of important holdings; a book showing the seals and sigils of each noble family, missing several pages, but a ‘forgotten’ index page that he’d swear wasn’t there in the pre-edited one he studied.

The first page had been alright. A bit depressing but death in general was, nothing unusual. The second looked a bit suspicious with several grouped names that appeared to be families, but sometimes that _did_ happen. On the third page the children started appearing.

Even in his most fervent anti-magic days Arthur would have tossed out an accusation that a child of 2 winters could be evil.  About halfway through, long after Arthur had given up pretending it wasn’t crushing to see every name written down those who were given to Aredian began appearing.

Arthur had found that he could identify which victims the author had known personally as under a few there were details beyond name, age and sex. One four year old girl had ‘favourite colour was red, doll named Bea, loved skipping.’

Another young woman was listed as ‘auburn hair, never missed a dance’, and a teen with the same last name ‘her singing voice is missed.’  
Some had ‘died by witchfinder’, ‘died by interrogation’, and somehow those seemed worst. Arthur was afraid to ask what ‘You fought them to the very end, child’, meant.

What clawed at him wasn’t so much that it _humanised_ his father’s victims, but that it highlighted how they had been _de_ humanised in the first place, and how literally the only thing he thought he knew about those who died in the Purge was that they had magic. Or were accused of it. Or of protecting someone with it. Hell, if he didn’t change the laws it was looking like he’d have to execute half his own knights, if Lancelot didn’t at least _suspect_ Merlin then he’d been carefully looking in the opposite direction.

Not in keeping with the rest of the reading material had been a bestiary. Arthur had looked up the various creatures that had seriously injured him. The results weren’t good, it turned out that he should have been dead several times over.  
The only _possible_ way of recovering was with magic, and strong magic at that. Arthur had considered each of his knights as possibilities, but eventually been forced to reckon with the fact that for the timing to work, it really had to be Merlin or Leon.

 Enduring his father’s company had been hard enough _before_ Morgana’s defection, now he was unbearable, and it came as nothing but a relief to leave.

Merlin was waiting in his chambers, everything set out as usual, but a far more sobering look on his features than Arthur was accustomed to. The Prince didn’t so much as turn around; “You are dismissed George.” The man bowed and left, it didn’t seem like an atmosphere he wanted to be a part of.

“Pour us each some wine Merlin, and have a seat- no not that one, your arse’ll go numb, _your_ chair.”

Merlin sighed, “Arthur, I don’t know what you want, and this is going to be simpler if you can give me and estimation of how fast I’m likely to be condemned, because trust me, you don’t want the results of _that_ farce to be public.”  
“I thought I was quite clear earlier Merlin, we need to have a proper discussion, because it seems that we have both been manipulated and misled by various sources for a long time. It’s time to end it. I regret that it did not come to light sooner, but perhaps neither of us were ready before.”

Merlin took a small sip of the wine he limited himself with but smiled slightly, “He told me you were closer than I thought. Hello Arthur. I’m Merlin, but since I’ve been in Camelot I have been called by a number of different names, I’ve also been informed by far too many sources that you are the other side of my coin.” Arthur nodded slowly, “Merlin, why did your mother really send you to Camelot? I’ve my own thoughts, but I need to hear from you first.” Merlin grimaced,

“Well as it happens, that is tightly bound up in my current fight with Gaius, which is not over petty things, more’s the pity.”

“As useful as that is to know, it’s not what I asked. You are too accustomed to evasion to automatically answer a question.” Arthur’s smile was bitter as he looked at his drink.

“I’m not the only one sire; and I’m trying.”

Arthur looked at the liquid in his cup. He really wished it wasn’t red tonight. “Yeah, I know. We’ll get there, it’s just going to take time. Not with all the others, please.”

“Oh _gods no!”_ The look of horror at such a suggestion was comical.

Arthur snorted into his wine at the rejection. “Distraction, so. Why here? Where it’s illegal to use...”

“Mum knew Gaius. The used to exchange letters occasionally. He’s an uncle or something, I never really questioned why exactly, she just said he was the only one she knew who could help. I always thought she meant learning control or finding a use for my _skills.”_

 “That’s reasonable. Gwaine was looking at the genealogies after I gave him instructions, I’ve enough issues keeping Father’s instability from being common knowledge in foreign courts without being accused of poaching. He found his own name alright, but he also found some...anomalies. The records he learned in Caerleon are significantly different from ours. He also found some unusual names Merlin. He found your mother’s name, and a record of her birth for the right age range. I have it to show you whenever you want. I intend to have a much more expansive discussion about this, and all of the _connected_ situations, but  I have a distinguished guest arriving soon who has been involved in some of the more significant deceptions- and _no_ , it is _not_ Gaius. It seems he remembers a young couple some twenty or so years ago disappearing, and while he’s a sneaky, enigmatic, apparently _warped_ man, he seems to be in agreement that there are some laws which need updating to be less… brutal. Provided that’s what he means by tapestries and curtain length. He- uh- he also said that certain families are particularly easy to spot while talking about idiots. Who like fire.”

 “Ah. I’d ask if it was Kilgarrah but he wouldn’t fit through the door. Does he know about me?” Merlin’s pulse was racing, Arthur could see, but there was no indication of an intention to flee. “He didn’t say as much, but I believe he does, yes. Given he called Gwaine out on being a king’s bastard and threatened to recite some lecture, _and_ has lived here long before the ban I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

“He knows genealogies and is a sneaky bastard? Do you want me to stay while Lord Geoffrey’s here, or go?”

Arthur looked at the way his servant’s face contorted. “Oh gods I’d better stop drinking this, or he’ll decide I’m an _actual_ idiot again!”

The prince rolled his eyes, “Oh, it’s far too late for that! He is _certain_ that you are an actual idiot, he just thinks you aren’t _only_ an idiot and have redeeming qualities.”

 “My handwriting is legible.”

“Yes Merlin. Your sole redeeming quality is your handwriting.” Arthur deadpanned.

“I keep telling you I have hidden skills, you never listen.” Merlin grinned widely, wilting a little as Arthur grabbed his shoulder until he spoke, “I’m listening now.”

 “Thanks Arthur.”

 The prince shook his head, “I should have paid attention earlier.”

“Don’t princes have better things to do than listen to their servants?”

“Most princes' servants aren’t called Merlin.”

“Yeah… That part’s gonna be a hard bit to explain. How are you with metaphors?”

“I’ve had to disentangle young princesses love notes. I think I can handle it.”

Merlin screwed up his face, “Eesh, yeah, I saw some of those delivered. You’ll be fine. So just to be clear, you aren’t going to be having me executed?”  
Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin, “I told you already. He likes pie and wine. Cheap date.”

“You’re still a Prat.” He couldn’t quite cover up the easing of stored tension, having fully expected the prince to change his mind after eating with Uther.  
“Good, we might just be able to pull this off then. I figured we’d meet again tomorrow with you, but since you’re here already it seems a bit pointless sending you away, shall we do it the other way around?”

“I did have plans for tomorrow night actually. This is better.”

Arthur’s surprise showed in his voice, “Huh. You had _plans?”_

Merlin shrugged and smirked, “Nights work better for some people.”

“Please never tell me what would need that.”

“Wasn’t planning on it sire.” Merlin smirked, despite his plans being very much in the opposite direction from bed.

“He’s illegal too, isn’t he?”

Merlin looked at Arthur without any indication of opinion evident, “If it was a him, he’d be illegal anyway, wouldn’t it? Even if I lured them with pie.”

“Not what I meant, but I’ll add that to the list of things to address, it’s not as though I don’t know about certain knights and stable-hands.”

The warlock chuckled, “Arthur! I’m shocked! An honourable prince like yourself ignoring two laws in one day!”

Arthur cocked his head towards Merlin, “Perhaps then one must consider that certain _laws_ may be lacking in honour.”

“Arthur. Really. Thank you. I know it’s not easy to throw off all of what you’ve been taught. Even now I’ve the ‘keep it secret, keep it safe, tell no-one’ litany running through my head, and the names of people who have died for that. You have to be consciously rebelling against the opposite speech.”

“Sometimes Merlin you talk absolute rubbish, and sometimes, like now, you are surprisingly  wise.”

There was a sharp rap on his door.

“Are you sure you want to stay Merlin, it’s...very messy.”

“Arthur, It’s my people, I mean _people_ like me, that Camelot has been burning, executing, persecuting and torturing for decades. I will _not_ be a coward, and frankly, it’s not my first torture session.”

Arthur nodded towards the door, “Are you going to answer that then? I’m the Crown Prince. I don’t answer my own door.”

Merlin shook his head with a wry smile and went to do it, allowed the familiarity of habit to soothe them both.  
The surprise he read on Lord Geoffrey’s face was good, assuring Arthur that he hadn’t been speaking to Merlin beforehand to get any story straight expecting him to be there. Any obvious mistakes and Merlin could correct it, and he knew from the truth spell that his friend _was_ confident in his own knowledge of at least some magic.

 “Good evening My Lord.” Merlin arranged the seat that was closest to the fire, old bones didn’t deal so well with evening chill.”

“Actually, Merlin, if I am correct, it is I who should be addressing _you_ thus.”

A look of sheer horror crossed Merlin’s face “Well you can’t. I mean- no one would believe it even if you did, it’d just look stupid, wouldn’t it?”

Lord Geoffrey’s eyebrow raised, “Then your father was _not_ Balinor, Lord of Dragons?”   
Merlin closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath before opening them to look Lord Geoffrey as the Lord he _could_ be. “Did you know him?”   
“Very well, Merlin.”

“Then yes, my father was Balinor, Lord of Kilgarrah, and his mantle was passed to me upon his death. How long have you known.”  
“About the time I started letting you ‘borrow’ scrolls you had no business being able to read my Lord, and wishing that you would occasionally pay attention to the Prince’s attempts to teach you strategy.”

“How long Lord Geoffrey?”  
The librarian held his gaze, “Years Merlin. Long before your Father passed.”

Merlin turned and stalked towards the window. Focusing on the peaceful image of Avalon Lake. Both of them waited for him to calm and return.

“Thank you for telling me _now_ , late as the hour is.”

“If I had paid attention to you others would have. You were neither my ward nor apprentice. Interference would have been suspicious. Still, I am sorry I remained silent. I did _not_ know that Balinor was close, or of his location, had I done so I would have given you what direction I could to find him.”

Merlin scrutinised the man, “You have served Uther for a long time Geoffrey, how can I trust you?”

“So has Gaius my Lord.” Stated the archivist.

 “Yes he has. If you are going to _use_ my rightful titles Lord Geoffrey, I can play along. Answer the question.”

“Why else would I be here, with records that have been hidden for so long, more carefully than that room you use so often Lord Merlin. If I had not remained there they might have burnt it all, buried everything. I _hoped_ one day the prince might break free enough of his father’s hold, and Morgana’s to ask the right questions, to become a better king than Uther has been. If I am wrong about you both then I have nothing left to lose, not even hope.”

 “Merlin, Lord Geoffrey gave me some very _enlightening, and very_ concerning records and documents. I would appreciate you looking at them. As our archivist is aware of your station and ability, he can have no complaints. He indicated earlier an enthusiastic belief that is in conflict with one of my Father’s core tenets. Laws I believe to be both outdated and based on incorrect teachings. So that there is no misunderstanding, Lord Geoffrey, will you please state your intentions here.”

“Sire, it is my belief that the persecution of those with magic is morally abhorrent and has damaged our land potentially irrevocably. This is a moment I have waited on, with a vain hope and no certainty for many years, and if I am wrong it will cost my life. I take that risk willingly because I believe it may be our last hope of saving anything. This is a night that choices will be made that decide the course of Camelot- and potentially Albion’s future. I am offering you what you need to make _informed_ decisions. Information. History. I have nothing more than these and the written accounts of an observer. I have lived in a world _with_ magic, and in a land that is _without_ it. Officially. I would choose the first over the second every time. It is of no consequence. Only what _you_ choose will be. Was that satisfactorily clear Sire, or must we resort once again to fabrics and decorations?”

Merlin had never been more glad of the silencing charm he had cast over the Princes chambers after that one time… And they called _him_ careless.

The old man organised some of the records before them, “It makes for grim reading Lord Merlin, many times I have thought that death might be kinder than continuing this task.”  
“Trust me, it depends entirely on the type of death.” It would be lost on Arthur, but Merlin looked up from the documents he had verified and the handwriting he recognised very well that recorded things that he could have been executed for. For all the failures, Merlin owed him a debt for _that._

He feared losing hope, Merlin could fix that. “And it’s not Lord Merlin, just Merlin, The People call me Emrys. That is enough, wouldn’t you say?”

The old man looked at once terrified and ecstatic, then put together what Merlin had said and a sadness and compassion shone through, “You will have any help I can offer My Lords. I assume then Emrys that this is the other side of your coin?”

Merlin “However unexpected, it would be a very strange coincidence if he was not…. Here. This girl, the singer. Who was she to you?”

“She was my niece, Merlin.”

“She was fifteen?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about them sometime, the ones you did this for. _I will remember them.”_

Knowing what that truly meant Geoffrey smiled sadly,  “Thank you Merlin."

“Don’t thank me, tell me which of these _names_  are _mine_.” 

Arthur observed them together, the way he watched how certain pairs of knights operated. They could make this work, he thought, it would be bloody hard, and painful, but he was beginning to feel it was _possible_.

Joining them around the table snapped their attention back to him. Good, they still looked to him without question.

“As humiliating as it is, I must ask you, Lord Geoffrey to go back to the beginning of certain areas of my education  and help me unpick the truth from the lies. You know what was preached, you saw the- all that happened- you know what _I_ have said, loudly and often. It will not be easy, even when I have a more solid plan in place, to convince people that my stance truly has changed, there will be those who assume a trap, and I can’t blame them for that. I would.”   
  
Merlin’s lips twitched, “Leave that to me Arthur, it’s one of the things I _can_ help with. In these walls, and with you I’m a servant, but there are certain communities where my name has some influence.”

 The archivist choked on his wine. “Geoffrey, do you need _help_ with that?” Merlin sounded frustrated. “Sorry sire, and Merlin. I hadn’t heard it phrased that way before.” The warlock huffed, “Why does everyone always expect some pompous prat?”

“Oh no reason. No reason at all _Lord Emrys_.” Geoffrey’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline.

Arthur cackled at the appalled look on his servants face.

 “If you are quite done mangling skills most children master by 4 winters…” Both nodded. “Good. I intend to reinstate the position on the council of Court Sorcerer or sorceress.  Removing the extensions of conviction from those who aid, conceal, do business with magic users, or find themselves entangled in what they are unaware of has become urgent.”  
“What, and me burning isn’t.” The outrage would have been comical if it wasn’t so serious.

 “Shut up Merlin. _I can’t lift the ban if I’m guilty of treason._ Is that clear enough? Not to mention this will be easier to push through, some of them must be covering someone or in questionable business deals, and then get support for than fully reinstating it in one sweeping move. That’s going to be hard with Morgana free, but initially I want to remove those that target anyone without a choice, such as Merlin, Balinor, and even Morgana. Who is still guilty of a list of offences as long as you are. _Discounting_ magic as an offence.” He sighed. “She does not give up. My sister will be back.” Arthur knew her far too well to doubt _that_.  
Merlin’s heart ached, it always did when he thought of her fall into darkness. “She is my responsibility.”  
“No she isn’t.” Arthur denied.

“Actually sire, Merlin is correct. Morgana does- would- fall under his remit and it’s his obligation to act against and challenge her. _You_ cannot do so alone. Her containment _is_ Lord Emrys’ responsibility, but what happened to her was not of any one man’s making, unless one counts her blood father.”   
  
Merlin frowned, shaking his head, “Actually I believe that Gaius holds a great deal of the culpability for that too.”

 Arthur tilted his head, intrigued, “Was that behind your rift?”

Combing fingers through his hair, Merlin sighed, “No, though it played a significant part, especially in me realising how we both were manipulated and the significant similarities. I could so easily have been the one in her place.”  
  
“I doubt that very much Merlin.”   
  
“You really shouldn’t, Arthur.” Merlin looked at his king seriously, needing him to understand, “I was fortunate. Balance plays a central role in the Old religion. She is intended to become a High Priestess. Perhaps even destined for it.

 _I am Emrys_ , she is my counterbalance. Had someone chosen to counsel _her_ instead of me, I would have looked elsewhere, _anywhere_ for answers, because there were none here. At least none I could find or understand without a basic grounding first. You could be potentially the greatest scribe to ever live and it would do you no good without someone showing you the alphabet. I haven’t succumbed to the darkness simply because I was given a choice, Arthur. Yes. It angers me that a child was left to suffers and driven mad by visions and fear because no one was willing to challenge her father’s tyranny.”

 

Geoffrey looked carefully at Arthur, he’d been younger before, too young to understand what was happening, and his old tutor wondered if the full truth was right. Arthur saw and waved his hand for the man to continue. He’d had enough of lies and half-truths, whatever their motivation.  “There were _attempts_ made to remove Uther from power when it was realised how much of his grip on reality had slipped, but it was impossible without another to fill the power vacuum. Cenred would have been even worse, replacing targeted repression with universal extortion. You lived under him Merlin. What would you choose.”

Merlin scowled, he knew the answer.

“Each time he’d blame magic again, there’d be another wave of escalated violence. What men will do to each other… I was fortunate. I could live without direct contact with the victims. Gaius was called upon daily, what he saw in the cells of camelot would make anyone weep. We did what we could, but it’s difficult when one is constantly watched- and _everyone_ was, all the time. We had to. Having a bag packed was suspicious and could mean a report, but not having one could make you too late to get out of the city if someone heard rumours of a raid or accusation. Mixing was prohibited. The homes of those with magic were burned, and their families. Even just for practising the Old religion _without magic_.  It’s impossible to understand unless you lived through it.”   
Merlin looked up with the hollow look common to many adults in Camelot around triggers, “I Saw. Someone showed me. I feel them all when they burn, every time. No-one else could have shared it, it only worked because Kilgarrah held the memory. I don’t think he realised the words would open it that way. If I wasn’t Emrys normal rules would work. It wasn’t intentional. Didn’t help the living situation in the tower though.”

“The early years left many of us in shock and with no ‘good’ choices, trying desperately to stick broken pieces together. You two are both living the consequences of that. So much was lost. So _many._ ”

Merlin shook his head, fist clenching. “Perhaps some day I will be able to forgive him. I’ve forgiven so many things, worse things even, it just hurts more than anyone else. Gaius _knew_ what he was doing… and yet I love him still.” Merlin shrugged, “But I can’t stay with him. I am sure Arthur you understand the thought of being feet from Uther through a thin wall right now does not inspire good thoughts. Love and hate seem to be far more closely linked than I’ve believed. So many things are no longer certain, I’ve known for a long time to be careful what I trust Gaius with… after Freya… well there are many mistakes that carry a high price. Not only his, but Gaius ensured I never knew where I came from, actively prevented me meeting my father _before_ we went looking to the exact cave he was in. I didn’t have a name, he told me he didn’t know why I was like this. I don’t know what to do with that. The man has _supported_ me certainly, but no one else while I have been here, at any time it could have been brought up by him. I was lost, and scared of how much ‘just happened’ when I arrived, and was left wondering. withheld knowledge of what I was just like no one told Morgana she was a Seer. Someone did explain certain things but he has a very different _perspective._ I left that night because I was afraid of what I’d do if I didn’t, more than I had been since Nimue.”

 “Yes. The two do seem to be closely intertwined. I dented the goblets and scared boring George at dinner tonight. Certain revelations have been personal and others- let’s just say it’s good I don’t have your tree- related abilities.” Arthur replied dryly.

“George needs the motivation to be interesting.”

“Probably. Still, I’m not suggesting some warm fuzzy thing with Gaius, and arranging different chambers is easy. I’ll get that organised tomorrow because you can’t just bunk with a couple of knights, there’s _already_ gossip, but I _do_ need you to find a way to work in a professional capacity with him. We really don’t have any other option as things stand. Courtesy of Gwaine we have a longer list of reconstruction efforts than I had anticipated. Camelot is suffering a dearth of Physicians, and an abundance of enemies. Not a comfortable state of affairs. If anyone comes to mind as suitable for further training in the healing arts, please feel free to apprentice them Merlin. I don’t care which community they come from, no tattoo inspection or such, and do it under my authorisation. I noted Gaius age in the records and we are in dire need of someone who can take over soon, the years have not been kind and he is weakening. _You_ are trying to compensate for too many things.

You _are_ supposed to be through the wall for convenience anyway. Everyone else’s personal servant sleeps in the appropriate room.

“That’s only convenient for you, you prat. Besides, when have I ever been an ”appropriate’ servant?”

“What, like you’re going to be traipsing about in the dead of night?” The prince sounded far too disbelieving to Merlin.

“Well...yeah. That’s my life Arthur. Has been for years. I’ve a ridiculous number of jobs, various people yelling at me about destiny, others about armour, and sometimes it’s difficult to keep things straight. Being in the shadows helps when dealing with Morgana, sire.

While continuing indefinitely just isn’t an option any more, especially now I’ve been offered a _human_ perspective on how someone- and their _soul_ can be eroded bit by bit living that way if you are willing to _help me_ now, I want to do it with a plan.

Up to this point that just hasn’t been possible. I’ve been operating in crisis mode for so long I don’t _have_ a plan. Just… reactions and short term fixes… and death, far too much death Arthur, even if it _was_ everyone trying to kill you or take over Camelot. There were, _are_ days that I feel more like your assassin than your servant. I was a _farmer_ before coming here.

Once it is _known_ and _confirmed_ you are working together with a magic user; and while I don’t like to advertise it in general I am actually quite a _powerful_ magic user” Here Geoffrey choked again, “The enemies you have will begin to try and account for me in their strategy. That loses you an advantage I currently have. Until now my _only_ advantage. In the shadows they don’t see me. Suspect I exist, yes, but Morgana didn’t expect you to have magical defences so she didn’t guard against them. If I assume the _position_ the my name forces on me and she connects it to _me_ here, trust me, she will throw _everything_ at us and we need to be ready first. Allow her to assume you have a pet sorcerer or minor magic user at your side and she’ll underestimate us longer. Much as I _hate it_ , we need time.

At least until the laws are at least tweaked, and _you_ have a reasonable education in understanding magic. _Really_ understanding, not like the lies fed you as a child. If you’re willing to sanction it sire, I will also need the time and freedom to study, and reach out to certain… _groups_  who have implied a willingness to help when the time came. I think that perhaps, our time is now.”

  
Arthur nodded slowly, for all Merlin said he had no _plan_ he did at least have some suggestions and useful observations, really, he just needed practice and help to develop context.

“Alright. I’ll do it, Geoffrey appears to be willing, _happy_ even to undertake the task; even if he has disappointingly brought laws written on parchment instead of the promised tapestries with embroidery. _If_ you agree to take lessons on politics and playing the games you hate so that you don’t leave me in this kind of mess again.”

 Merlin looked confused. Did the Prat not understand how many bloody messes Merlin had got him _out_ of, often quite literally. “What mess?”

 Arthur rolled his eyes at the sheer obliviousness, and mentally cursed whoever thought peasant farmers belonged at Court. “The one where I’m either a hypocrite for using a warlock as a tool and a shield, but only for the prince, while executing commoners who dare, _or_ I’m an idiot and Camelot’s severe vulnerability to magic is public knowledge throughout the five kingdoms.

I don’t appreciate being made a hypocrite, or appearing a fool, though I realise you acted in good faith and without that intent. _They_ still understand that griffins require magic, and questing beasts, killing wraiths, things like that Merlin. I’m very glad right now that Morgana has also been subject to the same flawed teaching. The destruction of an immortal army wasn’t very subtle in terms of military tactics. Nor was their defeat _Merlin_ , and it’s likely that the only reason I don’t have Lot here making trouble is that Essetir lost a _massive_ proportion of their male population through being tied to the cup. The lack of stealth and long term planning was one of the things that made me discount the other knights as possible sources of defensive magic.”   
Arthur grimaced, the full results of _that_ massacre were yet to be felt.

 Merlin froze, “Wait. _Other_ knights?”  
  
It was like he was _trying_ to be exasperating. “Well technically, under the old laws you would have become one, or at least been invited to, and even without the official designation, it’s currently the moniker you best fit I think. You’re no politician _yet_. An excellent advisor, when you’re not being an idiot, but it is difficult to raise an ex-servant to that position, let alone a _current_ servant.”   
“You can’t _fire me_.” Was _everyone_ trying to make his job harder these days?   
Wishing for patience Arthur answered him, “For once I’m not threatening to. Just… trying to come up with a new job description.”

“How about Ghost whisperer.”

“Too creepy.”  
Merlin managed to appear completely serious, “Well yeah but..”

“And it has to be real.” Arthur glared.  
“Arthur. Camelot is haunted. Ask anyone- actually don’t, they’re scared of being executed for seeing magic, or weird stuff.”

“And you’re not?” Arthur watched his friend curiously, he hadn’t trusted them before with his life, not like _this_ .   
Merlin’s gaze wandered, “Well yes as a matter of fact. It’s going to take a while for that to wear off, it just seems a bit late to be avoiding the subject entirely. If you were going to execute me it would be for being a Dragonlord, or Emrys.”

Arthur looked puzzled, “There aren’t any dragons left anyway.”

Geoffrey looked at the Prince incredulously, “Sire, what exactly did you think happened to the massive body of a dragon?”

Alarm showed on Arthur’s face, eyes flicking to the windows as if he expected to be attacked by dragons at any moment.  
“Arthur, Kilgarrah is _mine_.” Merlin growled, irritated that the less-human voice bled through, “He can’t touch Camelot while I live.” Merlin made eye contact with Geoffrey at that who nodded his understanding. “Arthur, Merlin _will_ outlive us, the Great dragon will never attack anyone.”

“How can you possibly know that?”  
Merlin sighed, and moaning put his head in his hands so that Arthur was forced to strain to hear his muffled words. He didn’t want to explain the immortality thing just yet.

“There are people who know more about us than _we_ do Arthur. That coin shit? It’s from prophecies. We’re living them, so I guess that’s why that part of the library isn’t hidden in the usual place, legends. I refuse to hear them because when I do everything goes wrong. Kilgarrah is different. He’s made mistakes, big ones, but so have I, and I _saw_ the death toll from the results of the unicorn’s death. Not to touch one your own previous actions against youngsters like me who _didn’t_ deserve it. We’re no better the he is there. Try not to let them prophecies and expectations get to you. _Knowing_ is a big part of what broke Morgana. As for Kilgarrah, he _cannot_ disobey me, even if he wished to. The burden is one you are not unaccustomed to, it’s the same one placed on you simply by being the Prince of Camelot, and you found a way to live with _those_. For all Geoffrey should be strangled for some of his choices though, this one was a kindness.”

The old archivist folded his hands together, “Thank you Merlin. I believed so. It would not be the first time a king was toppled by an obsession with such things. Nor do I envy you. The road ahead will not be easy- no, not a prophecy, an observation of the magnitude of what you are considering taking on together.”

Arthur looked up sharply, “Not _considering_ Lord Geoffrey. Organising. My father still lives, I won’t usurp him that way. Not after Morgana, but I _will be_ prepared, and we _will_ be ready. I am quite certain that between each of us working alone until now point there are going to be deep wounds we have inflicted on each other.  To make this _work_. To _succeed_ and save Camelot from destruction everyone is going to have to be able to put it behind him and focus on the quest we are undertaking. Gwaine is an ally that may be trusted, and can help you Merlin with understanding how not to accidentally fuck things up with over sensitive nobles. It’s a skill you _will_ need. I cannot yet be sure of others.”  
“I think you will find Sir Percival sympathetic Sire, though I cannot speak for him.” Merlin watched his King’s face carefully as understanding dawned.

“The campfire.”

“The campfire.” Merlin’s mouth pressed into a grim line.

“You know what he was holding back?”

Merlin shook his head. “I know one thing. He knows something of me in return. Not a planned situation. Gwaine is unaware of that part of my life, as Percy doesn’t know what Gwaine does, and neither know that I am Emrys. Please, don’t inform them, let me choose, with both of _them_ it will hold a different meaning and I’m- I need to be ready for possible reactions.”   
“You dislike titles, and the reaction to that one is strong, huh?”

“It’s… It’s not common. Some people have expectations or strong responses.”

“Merlin, I solemnly promise never to bow to you or call you by titles unless it’s to annoy you. Or complete some peace treaty type arrangement. _That_ would be worth bowing to an idiot.”

Merlin smiled at his friend’s awkward acceptance. “I might bend the knee to a prat for that.”  
“You do it daily lacing boots.” The prince’s servant smirked,

“Did you just admit that you are a prat?”

“No.” retorted Arthur.

“Yes you did. You admitted you are a prat! I have a witness! Lord Geoffrey?” Merlin invoked the archivist.

“I saw nothing.”

“You disappoint me Geoffrey.” sighed Merlin.

“With respect, Lord Merlin, you turn around when someone says ‘idiot’, this is not a path you wish to walk down.”

Merlin scowled. “What happened to ‘I saw nothing’?”

Geoffrey's beard wobbled, “He’s accepted his role as heir; and his crown. You haven’t.”

“Well if you’re going to be like that…”

 Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm, “Go back to the crown part.”

Merlin slumped. “It’s not like you. I- a few years back there was a plague, and the mortaeus poison, and saving you from the questing beast. There was a- a fight. Nimue went after my family and I took it badly. Killing the High Priestess of the Old religion in that type of battle it’s a bit like- like duelling for leadership. She was the highest ranked, most powerful. It’s supposed to make me the leader in her place, which is all well and good except for the part where I know none of the ceremonies, and am not a girl, and- well there were other things. I’d be High Priest instead, but that would technically be leader of the Catha and I’m not exactly a warrior, am I?”

“Geoffrey, the wine. Please. A great deal of wine.  
So what you are telling me Merlin, is that at 17 you accidentally killed the high priestess of the Old religion and left a power vacuum that various slightly less powerful witches will have been fighting for ever since.”

“No, I killed her on purpose because of the balance.”

Geoffrey dropped the cup, and apologising picked again to refill. “I just didn’t know about the consequences, and then Kilgarrah wouldn’t explain why he was angry, because everyone thought I knew things I couldn’t possibly have known.”

Arthur rubbed his head. They were _trying_ to kill him, Merlin and Gwaine, they _had_ to be.

“Right; and the Catha?”

“They’re sort of… Warrior priests? A bit like knights, but magic. They’re an offshoot of the druids, but seem to be connected somehow to the Dragonlords.”  
Geoffrey’s laughter had a hysterical edge to it.

Arthur raised a brow at the old Lord, “Geoffrey. Care to enlighten us?”

Finishing the wine the man shook his head. “No Sire, I need to go and do some research. It’s not knowledge I’ve used in a while, I have to check first.”

Arthur rubbed his temples. “So, no crown, but magical knights, and reluctant leader of the Old Religion.”

“I’m not a leader Arthur.”  
Arthur looked evaluatingly at his servant. “I think that you are, Merlin. You lack confidence. If you take on the position, and choose a couple of people to be like regents until you understand the requirements, and carry out day to day tasks.  I can help with some of that. We cannot unite

the magic and non magical peoples if one is divided against themselves in factions. You implied being ‘Emrys’ is important, yes?”

“It- It really is Arthur.”

“Would it be enough to force a majority to coalesce behind you, or support your taking a leadership position?”

“I already do that in their courts and things.”

“Evasion. Merlin?”  
“Yeah. It should be. I haven’t tested it. I don’t want to go and throw my weight around on the basis of a title I haven’t earned.” Something in his gut twisted at the idea.

“Except Merlin that you _did_ earn the position itself, it’s trial by battle. If you don’t, lesser witches will continue to fight to the death to hold the position, and destroy their order doing it.”

“I didn’t want any position or power. I didn’t think about it. You think they’ll do that?  
“Merlin, I _guarantee_ it has consumed the ambitions of a whole bunch of them since the day Nimue disappeared.”   
Shit.

“This is why we need each other Merlin. You don’t seek power but weren’t raised to deal with those who _do_ and to see a bigger picture. I forget the smaller stories and more precise effects, which you remind me of when I look at it too much as a general. You’re practical, but have the heart of an idealist, I don’t have many of those in my life. Balance, see? You aren’t going in to create injustice, but to offer them stability and peace, a continuity, so they can stop their silly but deadly bickering. You already do it with certain knights and servants. In the morning you are going to find out which weapons the Catha use, and start training with them with Gwaine… discreetly. No more big displays until I at least implement the Camelot citizens only clause to make you exempt while the rest is prepared, you are technically still a citizen of Essetir after all?

 Unless there’s a different- no, you know what. Not tonight. I’m done. Any more and my brain will melt and then we’ll have to go back to the beginning. Thank you Merlin, really. Thank you everything… and for leaping without being certain of the landing. Could you please escort Lord Geoffrey to his chambers? I think he’s had quite a bit to drink to cope with the night. If I thought it’s would help I’d join him, but alas, drunken battle plans are rarely the best possible, and I need to get this one _right._  You _will_ wake me in the morning Merlin?”

Arthur looked almost vulnerable as he half-asked, half ordered his friend.

Merlin grinned, adrenaline still high from the night.  “Of course I will. Can’t let the royal prat oversleep. Didn’t you know? Albion’s future starts tomorrow. Busy day for _you_.” He winked. “Goodnight Arthur.”

He supported a still articulate Lord Geoffrey who’d co-ordination was far more impaired to the door. It was late enough that Merlin felt justified using the notice-me-not, but at least it wasn’t light yet.

He could probably get a couple of hours kip before he had to take the Once and future Prat breakfast and discover which lethal weapons he was supposed to learn. Life had changed more the past week than it had since he arrived in Camelot, and he was more than a little conflicted about that, but he was relieved that Arthur was thinking of the possibilities. Possibilities he hadn’t really ever realised existed, and not just regarding him as a mystery to solve now.

They were both being realistic about the inevitable problems and pain, but there were many positives.  His living situation was no longer precarious, and while there was no way things would be the same, he could do as Arthur asked, form a new _working_ relationship with Gaius, and see where it led. If the day was too much, he would have a place to go home to. A prat he may be, but the Arthur really wasn’t that bad as princes went.

If he _had_ to be half of a coin, there were worse other halves to be stuck with.


	28. Chapter 28

Merlin got down to Gwaine’s chamber to find it empty.  Hoping his friend _meant_ what he said about using it without him he opened it the easy way. Apparently he was less quiet than he thought as it’s usual occupant stumbled from Percy’s room slightly inebriated and grinning. “Merlin! ‘Bout time you joined us! Percy, look who it is!”

A deep voice came from the other room, laughing, “I bet it’s Leon.”

“Nooo, it’s Merlin! Come and have some mead Merlin, there’s plenty- oh, no, there _was_ plenty.”

“Ah, actually, I already had way more expensive wine than I should. Are you supposed to be in there or is Percival just too nice to throw you out on his own?”

“Noo, he would not throw me, it's fine Perce, you _could_ but there's not enough space. Need a field. You know the best fields Merlin.”

“Course I do Gwaine, I was a farmer, know loads about fields me. Arthur thought he might try it one time, with Gwen, and have me do the work.”

“Oh, oh gods! The Princess on a farm.” Gwaine laughed, “He wouldn't know a hoe from a shovel.”

“Nope. Not a chance. He’d last less than a week. Come on then Gwaine off we go. ‘Night Percival, you gonna need a morning after draught for that?”

“If you can, mate.”

“Percy, you put up with this ass for an entire night, he's still alive, and no one is unconscious. You more than earned it. Besides, I am not getting through the day without one, may as well pick up another 3.”

“Miscounting to 4. That's bad Merlin.”

“Nah, but I may been tricked into drinking with Arthur.”

Percival chuckled, “Merl _in_ , I keep telling you not to trust the posh stuff. You can barely hold any _cheap_ ale.”

“I know, and I listen, swear I never will again, and I always underestimate it. Still, at least training’ll be late today, I doubt the prat will be looking for loud noises and clanging too early.”

“Good Merlin. That's good news. Now _please_ take him away?”

“My - well, not _pleasure--job maybe?_ Aw, come on, don't frown. You're not that bad. If I was looking for a mad bastard who I could always rely on, with epic sword skills and great hair, you'd be my first pick.”

“Mmm. I guess. I do have great hair.”

“And a Cape now, don't forget the Cape.” Merlin steered him across and into his own room.

“It is a good Cape. Very swishy.” The knight asserted.

“The swishiest.”

Gwaine yawned, “You’re the best, Merlin.”

“Yeah Gwaine, I really am.”

“I could fight you you know.” The man sounded certain.

“No Gwaine, you really couldn't; but you'd try anyway and I love you for it. Go to sleep.”

 

He’d tell Gwaine in the morning about some things. Once everyone downed the vile concoction that worked.

One day, when they did something terrible to him Merlin planned to tell them what was actually in it as punishment. As apprentice physician he didn't get to keep the bliss of ignorance, being responsible for preparing it in large quantities for feasts. Only knowing it worked _fast_ kept him from swearing off it forever.   


“Don't want to. It's cold.”

“Gwaine, get in the damn bed and I will come warm it up for you.”

Gwaine laughed, “OK Merlin. Not with fire.”

The warlock rolled his eyes, “No. No fire inside. People get nervous.”

“Silly. Candles are fire.”

That was one way of looking at it. Not one Merlin had ever heard from another, but he wasn’t wrong.

“With big fires then. Go to sleep Gwaine. There’s lots to explain tomorrow.”

“Stay.”  Drunk Gwaine was affectionate when he tired.

Merlin smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

At least until tomorrow. It was a strange thought; he’d never actually had his own _anything_ , except magic he supposed, and that was more a part of himself than something he _possessed_.

Merlin knew from experience that neither of them usually felt affectionate when he woke the next morning feeling like something had died in his mouth.

 

Sighing, Merlin lay down, hoping that Gwaine had not informed Percival he was good at anything else. He would miss the company of having the knights just _there_ but it would be the first time he had ever had his own space. Now he had to figure out a way of getting all the magical, still very illegal items from the physicians quarters to wherever Arthur decided to stash him. It was a good plan but ultimately he lost the attempt to stay awake to good wine.

Waking up with a hangover was never good, and waking up with one to a ghost, however pretty, was worse.

Merlin groaned “I should just remove my head. It would be quicker.”

“Such a drama queen!” giggled Eileen.

“Sssh….just talk quietly OK? Even if no one else can hear you _I_ can. Have to go to get remedy,” he groaned, “Oh gods, I have to get it from _there_ . _Why_ can things not be simple?”

Eileen shrugged, “I’d get it for you, but you know, dead and all…”

“Yeah. Thanks anyway I guess. It’s not _me_ I have to worry about when I go walking in there. Look, I discovered some records last night. Hidden ones. You had an uncle once, didn’t you?”   
“I had several.” She looked at him for clarification.   
“One was Lord Geoffrey, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, he was a good man.”  
Merlin’s eyes closed. “Thought as much. He misses your singing, and I’m sorry.”

“I miss people singing with me. It’s not so bad though, and now there’s other company. You were right about Leon the gossip, and he _does_ have jokes. Just… _polite_ ones.”

“Then I’ll sing with you when I’m not sharing a room, and that _was_ kind of the idea. Gwaine doesn’t know any clean jokes. I know you’re not _really_ as young as you look but it still feels wrong to let him be… Gwaine that way.”

His friend feigned outrage in the background, _“Hey_ , I can behave. Merlin, do you have any of that magic morning after stuff?”   
“Yes, and I’m just leaving to get it in a minute Gwaine.”

“Thanks mate.”

He was oddly glad for the confirmation that some things never changed.

  


Merlin turned his focus entirely to his first ghost, expression serious.

“Eileen, I need to ask you something, you don’t have to do it, don’t think you have to agree. Most days we’ll be good, but if you can, if it’s not going to punish _you_ I want to to try and do something for me. Once. Never again.”

  
She hesitated and nodded, “Ask me, Emrys.”

“No. No, not him.  This is _not_ an order, or command, it’s a _choice_ Eileen that only you can make. If you _can_ . Just _once,_ make him burn. Show him from the other side of the flames, give him _everything_ , and leave it there with him. You’ve-” He let her see his remembered pain, “We’ve _both_ felt it, every single moment until the darkness falls. That sadistic prick never has. If it’s too much to ask of you, if it hurts too much, if you simply never want to see it again even in another’s mind- I certainly hate it every time- then dragons. Uther thinks Morgana is scary. Morgana’s only a hurt little girl with abandonment issues.

I’m _Emrys_ . I’ve seen his death lists now, and I’m _fucking angry..._ But, I’m also servant to a Prat and going to be late for work if I don’t leave now to get hangover fixes for all; and if I’m late to the kitchens Agnes gives away all the nice sausages. Then the prat wakes grumpy. Well, grumpi _er._ Which Gwaine here doesn’t deserve to deal with at training after everything, including being woken by my own flailing. When you decide, tell me. Remember, there is _no_ right or wrong decision ok?”

Gwaine was frozen behind him. “I told you before you were right Gwaine. You said no-one ever believed it. I can’t tell you everything, and you said before try the biggest and it’ll be easier. That… that’s _my_ _biggest_ , and… and it’s what makes all the others make sense. I’m Emrys. I know you’ve heard the name before. Two names appear together. You knew the other.

It’s why your friend bowed to me, and called me Lord. It’s the reason my life makes no sense and all choices are- well I don’t really get to make many of my own. When people find out, they often end up targets. Or um… dead, and I had to warn you, the nightmares- it was… Just be careful ok? Promise me.

If it’s too much- or if you can’t forgive me, tell me and I’ll not bother you again, Ok? Just- just make sure you _tell me._ Please. I’ll be waiting.”  Merlin brushed away the few tears to escape without looking back, but Gwaine saw. His legs wouldn’t work to let him follow.

The thing was, his heart told him follow, assure Merlin his admission changed nothing, but that wasn’t true, not completely.

He’d suspected as much before, with the references to Arthur, Geoffrey’s reaction in the library, the Dragon’s coins, even Merlin’s terror of what he’d _accidentally_ do; but the confirmation that made it real was overwhelming, and it _did_ change things.

Not Merlin. Not whether Gwaine could accept him, that was unquestioned. Whatever crazy request or adventure Merlin came to him with, he’d follow. Exactly how he was apparently dragon riding tonight.

His concern was that there would always be things they had to keep from each other, he couldn’t let Merlin hear some of the forked prophecies. Merlin would have to experience some things that went beyond where Gwaine existed, if he hadn’t already. Running after him right now without thought would benefit no-one. If for no other reason that for Merlin to be certain it wasn’t an impulsive response or without understanding. His response at the campfire and offer of gags wasn’t subtle, and he _had_ clearly recognised the ‘Once and future King’. Merlin was right, that title did not tend to appear in stories alone, and there weren’t many other candidates around. In fact the only one to spring to mind was the psychotic half sister, and _hell no._

 

Could Gwaine be a part of the legend? Was he willing to take on that responsibility and...well… the inevitable pain of it. Legends weren’t fairytales.

By the time Gwaine had concluded that yes. Yes, for Merlin and Arthur, he absolutely _could,_ he was late for training, and when he arrived Merlin looked like a spooked colt. Really? Emrys? He sighed, _no._ Merlin terrified he was going to have to everything completely alone, _again,_ as presumably he _had_ been doing all along, without much in the way of resources.

At least until Kilgarrah was free.

 

Late though he was, Gwaine ensured he made proper eye contact with Merlin on the sidelines, as always, and nodded confidently at him. The sheer relief and joy on his face was more than anything he seen from Merlin before. It was the moment he truly understood how isolated and close to breaking the man had been.

What restored _his_ heart was seeing the telling glance between Merlin and the Prince. _Finally_ they appeared to have reached an understanding that went beyond washing socks and bickering to keep each other sane. He had a vague recollection of Merlin mentioning explaining many things last night; he hadn’t been been exaggerating.

\--------------------------------

 

After he left Gwaine, Merlin had had to grit his teeth to return to the physician's workshop, his home for the past few years. There were memories that now were tainted or compromised. Reframed, and he knew that would take time to settle. Arthur was right, he had to find a way to _work_ with Gaius. The knights _and Camelot_ needed him to. He also was going to have to stop covering up the man's deteriorating physical health soon. They were fortunate that he was still unimpaired mentally, but there _was no one_ to take his place. Merlin couldn't. He already had a million and one tasks. There would come a day, likely uncomfortably soon, when Gaius would begin to have proper trouble with stairs. He’d had arthritis for years, as would anyone in his position. Kneeling, bone setting, moving patients, grinding ingredients, general life took its toll. Merlin could almost guess people's jobs by the ailments they came in with now. Initially he had hated it. The healers job was absolutely revolting. There was no way of getting around that. They treated battle wounds, plague, infections without hope. They saw fevers, every bodily fluid, and sometimes the remedies weren't much better. Merlin personal least- favourite was amputations; That combined them all.  Merlin had been something of _reluctant_ student of medicine. A few bad injuries on a battle-field and incidents with children made all the difference to how useful it seemed.

His first choice of help would have been Gwen, but she was looking after Uther, despite the fact he had her father murdered. Merlin wasn’t sure how she did that with the compassion she managed. Yes, Arthur had killed Freya- in front of him even, but he hadn’t _known_ what he was doing. Uther had. He still wondered what was really behind Morgana’s choices then. From her first seeking to have him murdered in cold blood, to then saving him. She had always been complicated.

Which one of them he was more like he didn’t know anymore.

It was a question he left alone, unsure he wanted to know the answer.

Taking a deep breath Merlin swung into the tower, just short of how he used to do. Gaius was up, sorting the first rounds for the day.

“Morning Gaius. Are there any herbs we need, things we are short on? I’ll be going out later, might as well combine jobs. The prat needs a morning after cure, but I can take the morning rounds up with me.”  
“I assume you need some too?”   
“Oh gods yes, the whole world is too bright and loud, really, what possesses the birds to start chirping this early?”   
“Nature Merlin, it’s in their nature.” He sighed. “You’re not here to tell me to keep dinner aside, are you?”

Merlin’s mask dropped and he shook his head. “No. Nor to tell you it’s ok, because it isn’t. Arthur’s sorting out new accommodation for me, making sure it’s convenient to him I think.”  
Gaius eyebrow rose, more out of habit than feeling, “Wouldn’t that be his servants room?”

“Not _that_ convenient. People already talk, no need to encourage it, but he’s the crown prince. He can do as he wishes. _We_ do need to discuss times though, like when I’ll be working for you, properly, since I came to Camelot it’s been whenever I’m not working for Arthur. With him taking on the regency, obviously I’d have less even time available even if I was staying here. Not staying will require some planning. I haven’t forgiven you Gaius. We are not ok, and I don’t know if it ever will be, but you are a great physician, and I am still your apprentice so we'll find a way to work together. I have commitments tonight, but will bring anything needed before seeing to them. I’m going to see if there is anyone who might be well suited to helping and learning from you who _doesn’t_ have to split their time three or four ways. We can talk later.”

Gaius nodded gravely. “There’s a list here of what’s needed. I do understand my b- Merlin. Thank you.”  
“You really don’t… and don’t thank _me_ Gaius. Thank _Arthur_.”

Merlin swept up the basket of potions and balms with the list to go do the rounds.

Thankfully most were convenient for a trip round to the kitchen and up to the prince’s chambers. It had gone much better than it could have. No one was physically hurt, nothing exploded, or on fire. He hadn’t even raised his his voice, which he thought was next thing to a miracle, just the Prat to face now. With his hangover. He couldn’t help grinning though as he walked in, ignoring knocking as always; the constant secrecy was _finally_ over. Sure it was terrible timing, but if Morgana continued this way, things were _not_ going to get gentler, the magic he was ‘discovered’ by wasn’t likely to be nice, harmless, non-scary magic. If he continued on, telling no-one, they’d find out mid battle-reflexes, it would most likely end in blood and fire, and his friends would wonder if he’d been feeding Morgana information all along, because she _did_ have spies, he knew that. She’d _been_ the inside source before openly defecting. He’d been waiting until magic was viewed less as a threat he realised, but even _he_ was beginning to find it triggered a defensive response often now. Anyone without any of their own were being shown no counter of Morgana and Morgause’s style at all.

Arthur was right. Morgana wasn’t the type to let a grudge go, she’d return, and Arthur would _again_ be shown only the frightening side, _again_ set against him.

Having finally allowed himself to think about it without the wishful fantasy overlaid, Merlin had concluded that should he ever have to _openly battle_ Morgana the reactions if no-one knew beforehand would be _not good_ . Not that he had ever watched himself fight, but he had watched Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot and Leon for _years_ and as a non-swordsman they could appear pretty intimidating in a use-no-magic scenario. The first time he’d seen them _really_ fight was scary. He suspected watching _him_ would feel the same way.

He was disturbingly used to bloodstains now and would grumble about stains as soon as he was sure no one was dead or dying who shouldn’t be. Merlin of the first week here would be slightly horrified by that.

Merlin who held in his hands the power of life and death was just relieved when sometimes someone else would make the choice. It had been far too long until he discovered no one was _meant_ to be able to _choose_ which lives to exchange, it certainly was not a mortal ability. He tried not to use that one, there was too much potential to be consumed by that.

Sometimes it honestly gave him some peace to serve someone else.  Knowing he could force everyone to their knees on a whim was on rare occasions a heady thought. He was glad he’d learned happiness in humility first or it would have been far more tempting.

 

“Rise and shine, sire! Busy day ahead.”  
Arthur groaned and burrowed deeper under the quilt. “Go away, I’m dead, leave me in peace.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “You’re _alive_ and I aim to keep it that way, sit up and drink the poison- oops, _potion_ we all need this morning or I’m opening the curtains. Do you know how bright the sun is in the morning?”

“Shut up Merlin. Your voice is somehow even more annoying than usual this morning, just give me the vial.”

“Ahah- you have to move first… and that will be because of last night sire. Be glad I am not a bird chirping three feet from your head, You should make _that_ illegal. Also ghosts turning up before someone is wearing a shirt.”

“I’ll consider it. The other thing I really, _really_ don’t want to know about.”

“Thanks Arthur, it means so much that you care.” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Shh,” Arthur held up a finger, “Just sssh until this works.”  
“Arthur… there _is_ a faster way of sorting it. Though I’m out of the habit of using that one.”   
“Merlin, are you saying you can fix this so that colour doesn’t make my eyes bleed.”   


“Will you have me executed for it?”  
“You’re still hung up on that?”

“A bit, yeah.” Merlin said, more than a little offended that Arthur didn’t seem to think it serious.  
“Fine, but I’m only _not_ executing you if you fix this.” He indicated his head.

Merlin’s eyes flashed and all of the muscles in Arthur’s body relaxed as nausea and pain ebbed away.

“Oh my… Is this what you use it for?”  
His servant’s face clouded over, “Not really, no. Only when we’re low on the mixture and there’s others who need it.”

“I officially authorise the use of this spell. It is the best spell ever. Is that bacon?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, trust arthur to focus on breakfast. “It’s not, but thank you, and yes I brought bacon.”

“ _This_ is why I keep you.”   
“It’s really not.”

“What did you have?” Arthur was fairly sure he knew the answer already.

“Me? Didn’t have time, I had to sort some things.”

Arthur huffed, “Ugh, here. Roll. Eat. Now. Can’t have you fainting on the job, it makes me look bad. I expect you to _find time_ to eat. Princes have more important things to do than remind their servants to eat and appear human.”

Merlin smiled, “Thanks Arthur. What about warlocks?”

“What about them?”

“Well last night-”  
“Last night was a beginning Merlin, and I need to _think_ , there is a huge amount to do, and it hasn’t lessened what we already _were_ doing.”   
Merlin sighed. “I’ll ask you _after_ breakfast sire, There’s something I want to do but seemed like a thing maybe I should ask about first.”

Ten minutes later things made a bit more sense. “You meant yourself when you said warlock, didn’t you?”

“I did Arthur, I am a warlock, which I thought you understood.”

“Ah. So not only magical because you are a dragonlord? It was probably covered, there has been rather a lot of new information to handle recently.” Arthur rubbed his hands over his face.

Far too much, Merlin privately agreed.

“Actually Arthur, that aspect of my inheritance came later. I was _born with my magic._ Every witch, warlock and seer is born with it inside them, it’s not a choice or decision, but it’s usually dormant, awakening when they are more mature, and needs some conscious thought for direction. Mine was awake, responsive, just _always there_ , and _always_ strong. Like you I was born with a destiny, and there is no way of escaping that. Dragonlords and any offspring they might have are illegal in Camelot. Warlocks are illegal. Many Dragonlords _were_ warlocks, but few warlocks were Dragonlords. Like Morgana is both a Seer and a Witch. Not all with the Sight can actively perform magic, being only subject to passive forms. Not every witch can harness the sight, it’s actually very unusual. None of which I knew before it was too late to save Morgana.”

Arthur nodded, and what about Gaius?”

Merlin grimaced, he didn’t want to discuss that, but they had to, at least a little. “Gaius was a Sorcerer. He has natural ability to guide and use it but uses the magic of the earth. He has none of his own, well, unless you count the magic spark of life but everyone has that so I don’t. Gaius can choose. He’s also a scholar, so was very well informed and knowledgeable, including about its _use.”_

_“_ Do you know what he used it for, Merlin?”

_“Some.”_ ‘Not enough’ was clear in his tone.

Arthur waved it away, “Enough. You’ve had a long time to process all of this _stuff._ ”   
Merlin frowned. He really hadn’t. “Less than you might think, Sire.”

“Why are you calling me that? Usually it’s ‘prat’, or sarcasm- I never thought I’d _miss_ the sarcasm.”

 

Merlin cocked his head, leaning against the table. “Because you have earned my respect and this is something too important to me personally, and to the five kingdoms, to risk if I poorly time some jab. I consider you a close friend Arthur, but this? This is a… a basis for treaty negotiations and peace agreements. Whether that’s tomorrow, or a a long way in the future. If you were talking not to Merlin, but to Emrys or the High Priest of the Old Religion, or the Last Dragonlord, would you begin by calling him idiot?

I’m all those things, and most of all I am _Merlin_ , but on ground with the Catha, dragons, and the united Druids surrounding you, would you _really_ want to risk that when things were fragile? Even knowing that I bow the knee to _you_ and no-one else. Which means that they also owe you their allegiance through me. I _like_ being Merlin and Arthur. I want to always _be_ the Prat and the Idiot, but with you taking on things as regent recently and finding _everything_ has been shrouded in shadows. I’m done. No more.

There’s nothing different except what we know about each other, and about _them._ I’m not afraid of the monsters Arthur, or the people who will fight this. I’m afraid of failing those who want the same thing. Peace.

If _I_ keep doing it _his_ way, and you keep going _Uther’s_ we’ll become the same men.

Twisted and estranged, and _bitter_ . I don’t believe that’s what you want. _I_ certainly don’t.

Not because you are this ‘Once and future King’ figure, but because you are _Arthur_ and you are my friend. The man who knighted commoners, and defended the lower town, the man who disobeyed a king just to go find the one antidote to a poison for a mere servant. The vision you have for Camelot as a place of justice and equality, I don’t think it is a fantasy. At least it doesn’t _have_ to remain so. Risking that for the sake of ego or pride would be a bit idiotic, don’t you think? I might just be willing to do it for a friend though.”

 

Arthur gripped his shoulder firmly, not sure what to say. The thought of being seen as this distant figure of prophecy had been disturbing and left him wondering if that’s all Merlin saw in him. Apparently not. His servant was uncomfortable with visibility, _at all_ , despite being fairly charismatic and sociable, but he conveyed the passion of such ambitions with conviction and confidence. It just needed to be harnessed, and maybe directed at certain people. Arthur smiled,  

“I could get behind treaty negotiations with bacon.”

The man smiled, “I’ll get right on it _sire_.”

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't bring dragons to negotiations.”

“I won't Arthur, Kilgarrah would be bored stiff.”

Arthur stretched and walked round to the screen. “This thing you wanted to ask about, is it something I am going to wish I didn't know of?”

“I honestly don't know Arthur.”

The prince sighed, “Go on then.”

“I want to call a meeting of the druid elders. Find out if there are one or two youths with healing experience that might be willing to study with Gaius. Discuss with them the practical requirements of taking on the role of high priest formally. I've been to several councils but never called one myself.”

“Sounds like you are overdue for doing so. Good luck escaping marriage contract competitions. More importantly, where are my socks? _What the-Merlin!_ Did you burn my socks?”

 

“No Arthur. That's… Just sun damage.”

 

“Sun damage.” Merlin smirked at the ringing disbelief in the prat’s voice.

 

“Like sunburn after a long day, but with socks.” His servant continued, as if it was obvious to anyone with half a brain.

 

“Merlin you are very strange little man.”

 

“I’m taller than you are.” Insisted his servant.

 

“Shut up Merlin. Training field first, then the council Chambers.”

 

Arthur couldn't be sure if his friend actually had wavered, he was still relearning how to read the man. “You think it's going to be alright then, with Geoffrey and Uther in the same room as both of us?”

“I don't know, but at least this way we'll know quickly. Better that than be stuck wondering for days.” The prince didn’t seem at all concerned.

It was a valid point of view, thought Merlin, but Arthur wasn’t the one who would burn if they miscalculated.

The one thing Merlin _had_ forgotten with the consideration of Gaius, Arthur, Druids, and possible priesthood, was announcing to Gwaine that morning that he was Emrys.

Not the best way to reinforce that making important decisions should never be attempted when hungover.  Still, he couldn’t exactly un-tell him, and if anyone was going to be ok with that it was this knight. Lancelot was, but really, at the time, Lance really hadn’t understood the half of it, or what that meant for him. He didn’t quite dampen the horrified look as he remembered exactly _how_ Gwaine had been informed of that. Although, he was ok with Kilgarrah, so maybe it would be ok? Then Merlin had seen his unspoken answer, and an unexpected weight lifted from him, one he hadn’t even realised he carried it had been there so long, slowly being added to. Arthur was _necessary_ . Like Merlin he had no choice, he was _born_ to this, raised to it more than Merlin ever had been which was both blessing and curse. Gwaine had a choice in a way neither of them had, to choose to stay meant something different. Albion was Arthur and Merlin’s responsibility, and ultimately theirs alone. Anyone else was _extra_ . Gwaine was a good _extra_ to have, for both of them. He was the only other who _quite_ managed to treat Arthur as just another man, and the prince needed that. Merlin- well, Merlin needed someone who could make him _forget._ Seeing him as more than the idiot _before_ this didn’t hurt either.

 

With his trust in Gaius destroyed, Merlin had lost one of his primary supports, and they were few enough as it was. He tried not to contact Hunith much these days, if someone noticed she’d be in great danger. Having the only (human) family of Emrys would be a significant bargaining advantage; and be a way of hurting him when they couldn’t actually touch Merlin.

It wasn’t a situation either of them were _happy_ with, but even Hunith had realised there was a lot he hadn’t been telling her in letters before they became far less frequent. Eventually they’d have to do something about that. Morgana was relatively disinterested in him so far, angry, but not enough to use resources, and more keen to keep it _personal._ She _had_ been to Ealdor though. If he was obvious enough to others then she might just remember.


	29. Chapter 29

It was clear from Arthur’s energy and aggression in training that something was up with the Prince, so he was paired up with Percival and Gwaine. They really were the only two who could handle him in that frame of mind. Percival made no comment, but there seemed to be some exchange between Gwaine and the Prat, who was in full redirecting rage form. Merlin couldn’t hear from where he was standing, and he was sure no one was intended to.

He was amazed that they came off the field without any broken bones by the end, but they all seemed calmer. Arthur shoved he helmet and gauntlets at Merlin, “Come on, My chambers, I’ve council to prepare for, they won’t appreciate the mud.”  
“Yeah. Or blood.”

“Nothing fatal. Or dangerous. Gwaine might hurt the physician, and you don’t have any spare time.”

“I’m not going to cancel tonight Arthur, especially not if I’m not having to try and sneak out without you not noticing.”

“I didn’t tell you to.”

 

He followed the prat up to his rooms, trying to order which things needed done first, without preventing him from doing his official jobs.

Once the heavy door swung shut behind them Merlin got to unbuckling the prince’s plate armour waiting for him to break the silence.

“I want to bring Gwaine in, we’re still working with half a picture each, it’s inefficient. You need him for practical lessons I don’t have time to give, even if I _could_ be seen to be training a servant properly, which I can’t. Lord Geoffrey has an excuse for spending time with me to prepare me further for kingship in the ways my father is currently unable to, and my father was known to consult him, making it less suspicious. Slightly. If my uncle had survived Morgana he’d likely have been admitted without challenge to the council.”

Personally Merlin thought that the royals should just stop doing that, it always seemed to be other family members who wanted to bring them down. There was a long history of it. Any family member should just be generally regarded with suspicion, but what did he know. Maybe it was one of the things that the other class just didn’t get, like trying to explain to Lords why a field had to lie fallow and be ‘unproductive’.

“You’ll be taking a seat at the round table, I don’t have to explain why to anyone, I’m the crown Prince.”

“You could just _ask_ you know. People respond better to being _asked._ What if I don’t really fancy it?”  
“You don’t get a choice, Merlin.” This time though, Arthur was smiling.

“Before he arrives, what does Gwaine actually _know?”_ Arthur ran a hand through sweaty hair.

“A lot more than I ever expected him to. Might be clearer later.”  
“Alright. He knows I’m a Dragonlord. He suspected some things before, but not that. Percival does not.”  
“What about Lancelot?”  
Merlin’s friend was brilliant but his sense of  honour created problems for a man like Merlin from time to time. “Lance is a terrible liar. Small scale is not what you are attempting here Arthur.”

  
Finishing removing it all Merlin wondered how Arthur couldn’t seem to acknowledge that what he was discussing was little less than a coup.

Sure, they weren’t planning to kill the king, like Morgana had, but that aside, it was pretty similar. Merlin had no qualms about it though. Before the Gaius thing, he probably would have been reluctant, but how much of that would have been protecting Arthur’s feelings? That… that had been _him_ not wanting to see a friend hurt, not anything to do with his _purpose_ , or protecting _Arthur_. Stopping him from committing regicide was just sensible, but the rest… How much of his _own_ maturing had been shaped by unpleasant, painful, or morally complex situations. Merlin thought he was helping his friend, but what if he’d been delaying the emergence of someone _ready_ to take the kingship? There were no clear answers, and no one he could trust to ask anymore.

He groaned, the frustration he felt doubling when he turned around to see Lachlan.

“What are you doing here? You should have to wear a bell.”

 

“Nah, jewellery was always terribly impractical around dragons, besides, how would you even kill a bell to have one I could wear. I just wanted to check I was right; you took a big risk telling him.”

“No bigger than not saying anything really.”

 

“Merlin. What are you doing talking to empty air? That’s weird even for you.”

 

“Uhm, talking to one of the ghosts, ask Gwaine, he’s met the pretty one, this isn’t her.”

 

“I’m hurt Merlin, you don’t think I’m pretty?”

 

“No. Not even if you wore satin ribbons in your beard, and _those_ wouldn’t be any easier to change than a bell to hanging around your neck, you creepy ass.”

 

Arthur’s face twisted, “I’m not going to ask Merlin, Please don’t tell me.”

 

“Didn’t intend to, Arthur. So can I assume you are planning the same shit as last time?”

 

“Absolutely. Next one though I’ll just stand silently and glare accusingly at him across the table.”

  
Merlin winced, “You heard what I said, huh?”  
The dead man inclined his head,  “I’m rather impressed actually. Didn’t think you’d go for that. I hoped though.”  
Merlin looked down before meeting the man’s gaze again, “I’m not proud of it Lachlan. I just-so many. _SO many.”_

The response was quiet, “I know, I was there. I didn’t anticipate what happened the other night you know. It never usually works that way.”  
“No, I needed the push to demand the truth from some people, and a push, I’d got… comfortable, if one ever can be comfortable living under constant expectation of being executed. I probably owe you thanks, or something.”

“You’re Emrys, Merlin. You owe me nothing. If you feel it though, just tell Kilgarrah I am glad he is finally free.”

“I will. He helped.”  
The ghost snorted, “Then he’s mellowed. He was always bloody enigmatic when I knew him.”  
Merlin snorted, “Oh no, he’s still that, but he’s…”

“Yeah. I know. He’ll never be human you know; but if you take them as they are, dragons are better almost every time. Well, see you in the council, got to be there to meet my hauntee.”

“This doesn’t get less weird you know.” Merlin called after him.

“Give it time.” Came the reply.

 

Shit. Like he needed to think about _that_. Ever.

 

Merlin rolled his eyes, returning his focus to Arthur, who had his arms folded and was looking at Merlin as if expecting a sensible explanation, which would be _so_ much easier if he had one.

“He’s gone. I don’t exactly _invite_ them, they just started turning up one night when one got lost.”

“Lost.” Arthur deadpanned.  
“Well yeah, she hadn’t been to that part of the castle for a long time.”

“And she went to _you_ for directions.” Arthur sounded as though he had very little faith in Merlin’s ability to find his way. Probably because he had claimed ‘getting lost’ so often. He almost never was, but he couldn’t exactly explain it. Not then.

  
“Not many people can see them, not easily anyway.”

“Why can you?” The prince appeared serious, so Merlin didn’t try to make something up; he really was trying to fight against a lifetime of training.

“I don’t know Arthur, there’s about four possibilities. I’ll tell you when I work it out if you like?”

  
“You do that.” Arthur said, giving his servant an odd look.

Merlin dropped his gaze to the armour he’d need to deal with later, “Please don’t do that Arthur. I haven’t changed.”

Arthur sighed, “I know. It’s just _strange_ seeing you like this. Realising how much I was missing going on around me, it’s not a comfortable feeling Merlin. Neither is realising that certain people have played me for a fool for a long time, and before you deny things I realise you didn’t _intend_ to. You did anyway, and others _knew_ what they were doing, and Merlin, you were played as well. My kingdom has not come crashing down about us, but the illusions of it have.  Camelot is not what I was taught, and it never was. There has been a conscious effort to disguise many things. Now I have to go and lead a council, wondering which are _trying_ to hasten our end, which are equally deceived as I was.  Gaius and Lord Geoffrey will be there with Uther, and I can’t show my changed stance yet. You are used to this double life and deception. To me it feels wrong and oppressive.”

  
“What makes you think it was less oppressive for me, and any others out there sire, I can walk into almost any room, knowing most in it would kill me without a second thought if they knew the truth about me. So I hide a core part of myself, smile politely, and serve them, daily. And when they are attacked by those seeking vengeance, I stand in the breech, because no one else will, and they don’t realise. Each victim had parents, or children, or friends. The cracks spread. Every victim _here_ has the same. I want the death to stop. The hate. The cycle. It’s crazy, but Morgana and I want the same thing ultimately, just in very different ways. I trusted you. She is still ruled now by fear, and she wants revenge.”

“Why don’t you?”

Merlin pressed palms to his face, “That is a question we do not have time to answer before council. Ask me later, otherwise your meeting won’t work.”

 

Gwaine hadn’t been particularly _surprised_ by Arthur’s command to attend him later, but he hadn’t immediately _assumed_ that the meeting would include Merlin- even if in _his_ opinion it should. Clearly they had been talking since whatever happened with Merlin and Gaius, but how many of the details had been exchanged and what hadn’t would be a fine line to walk with the lack of opportunity for clarification first, which was either intentional, or the Princess being his usual impetuous self. It was difficult to tell. With the cracks in Uther’s hold over Arthur, his trust shaken by the revelations of Morgana, he was questioning other things. What the knights couldn’t allow to happen was for those to be weaknesses for self doubt.

One of Arthur’s strengths was his willingness to trust. To honour agreements.

One of his biggest weaknesses was that same willingness to trust. It had been taken advantage of before, and would be again. Gwaine was a cynic.

Neither he, nor Merlin had had the luxury of trusting anyone. Enough that Merlin made it through a truth spell. He could easily believe that Merlin would have continued to hide for years, but he really couldn’t imagine a time without the man being honest where magic would not be perceived as a threat.

 

Percival had been silent about what passed between them and Gwaine had accepted that without question, but whatever it was he knew Percy was a vault as tight as the archivist.

\--------------------------------

 

The council meeting went about as well as could be expected, the discussion of reconstruction efforts met by grumbles about expense that made Merlin want to strangle the Lords collectively for not grasping that they couldn’t take gold to the next world.

 

Lachlan stood calmly to the side of Uther helpfully pointing out things like:

 

“Wouldn’t it be useful if there were some of us to help rebuild, it was always so much faster.”

 

“Oh, do you remember Ruadhan? He was just brilliant with shaping earth and stone. I think he was murdered during your first year of terror.”

 

“Wasn’t that one the wall where you first kissed Igraine?”

 

“I always thought it was the prince who threw his toys when angry and left them for others to clean up.”

 

“Do you think a shield might have helped? I knew a guy who knew a guy- darn, both dead now, never mind.”

 

“Is that glitter Uther? Why do you have glitter stuck between the slabs? You know that never comes out right?”

 

“You know you really shouldn’t drink so much at serious meetings like this, it doesn’t look good. Bad example and all that. Huh. You started with the strong stuff this time? Are you… are you having a _bad day_ Uther?”

 

Merlin had to clench his hands behind him and count to prevent himself breaking protocol and storming out in front of Arthur. He had more self control than Uther at least.

The Prince looked at his tense frame and around the room. “That’s the ghost you were yelling at the day things exploded, isn’t it.”

“Would it make a difference sire?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head,  “Probably not. Should I ask _how_ things exploded?”

Merlin returned the gesture with a grimace, “Probably not.”

It was as good a confirmation as he’d ever get.

“Then stop playing with your invisible friends and hurry up, I have things to do that are actually important, Idiot.”

Merlin was almost relieved, he could afford to be exposed to _everyone_ just yet. He wasn’t lying, but announcing himself unplanned wasn’t ideal either, and he had managed to regain some of his usual stability. Loss of his self control was a frightening thought to him as Merlin had never actually _used_ his full power. He could feel it just sitting there, underneath, but when he tapped in to _that_ reserve he felt _more_. It wasn’t something he could explain.

If Arthur stopped behaving normally with Merlin at all more questions would be asked.

It was still one of the fastest walks back without them having lost someone.

 

“Sit down Merlin.” The servant looked at Arthur, he wasn’t quite sure whether to trust the invitations offered to equals, or _near_ equals. “Are you sure?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and sit.”

“Right.” Well, he wasn’t about to fight that, after all, there was no guarantee of another rest until tomorrow.

“Where would you prefer to have chambers?”

“I’m sorry, what? You’re _asking_ me? Who are you and what have you done with Arthur Pendragon.” Merlin feigned shock and horror, though it really wasn’t so far off his past actions.

 “Shut up Merlin and tell me what’s more useful. Your own chamber in the tower, near to the physician’s quarters, or down near the knight’s quarters for… the rest?” Arthur had thought about it and neither seemed to have any huge advantage over the other.

“I don’t know Arthur, didn’t think there would _be_ a choice. Both are better than living with Gaius, or getting in Gwaine’s way.”

Arthur arched an eyebrow, “You know I think you are less ‘in the way’ than you think. You still need your own place, not least to do all of your illegal things without it being _seen_ when possible.”

“Is there much difference in time between them? Guards, damn I need to work in the- near the physician’s. The knights quarters are better guarded and I’m more likely to be caught wandering off.”

Arthur nodded, that was simple. He liked simple. There wasn’t enough of it about these days. “Alright. It’ll look less strange anyway I guess. I don’t suppose you’re courting anyone to make it look more of a practical move?”

Merlin glowered, “Stop Arthur. No.”

The Prince rolled his eyes at his servant, “Ugh, it would be simpler if you’d just take the room you’re supposed to have.”

“Even more no, I’d never get a break, you’d call me every hour, and there are _always_ guards who are _awake_ here.”

  
“You’re going to have to point out the negligent ones to me.”

 

Merlin shrugged, “They’re very useful to me.”

“They’ll get someone killed.”

Pursing his lips Merlin considered that. “I’ll think about it. To be fair I am usually in a rush and don’t look at faces. Arthur if I have to sit down so do you, this can’t be a one man pacing exchange."

Arthur threw himself down, face stormy. “Merlin before we left you said there wasn’t time to explain why you didn’t want revenge. There is time now. You have my attention Merlin.”

Swallowing the man watched his king, he really did. “Alright. I am Emrys. You know this. Lord Geoffrey _understood_ it. Emrys is a title, yes, but it is not one given out or won like ‘king’, or ‘chief’, it is one I am born to. It’s only taken once, _can only be for one_. Emrys is the most powerful Warlock to ever live. Past. Present. Future.

That is me, Arthur. I am _young_ , and essentially self taught. It has presented limitations, yes, but I still pulled lightning from the sky to kill Nimue on a whim, when her kill-spell should have been effective as a direct hit. You cannot have forgotten Sigan. What his spirit did... I trapped him again, but what he did, _that_ is why Arthur. If _I_ ever truly decided to pursue revenge- not just _wanted it_ but chose to act on that, I could bring Albion to its knees. I wouldn’t, and I _hope_ I would never desire to. I’ve been tempted by vengeance, after father, after Gwen’s father, after- well I guess my mother was the exception, the one time I caved.  The potential though is there. Now there is only one who even comes close in power, it’s extremely rare to find someone who is naturally truly _powerful_ , though they exist. You’ve no need to fear there’s an evil twin.  There are other threats. I’ve always avoided trying my full strength, I don’t know what would happen, and don’t want to risk anyone’s safety.”

 

Arthur took a steadying breath, trying to process that, he knew _exactly_ how he’d treated Merlin in the past, and to think that it had been _Merlin_ _allowing it._ Threw things into a different light. “Yeah. I see why telling me that before council wasn’t a good plan.”

 

“No. Lord Geoffrey did well though. Just as dull as he always has been. Gaius didn’t show any feelings or appear different.” Merlin reflected.

 

The prince’s bemusement showed, “They’ve been living this bizarre life for years now, haven’t they.”  
  
Merlin paused, trying to work out how to explain to the man. “It’s hard to stop after so long. I don’t know how. I’ve never known another way Arthur. That’s normal for me, Them too I think, they just know how to live a different way. I don’t. _This_ where someone knows is my odd, twisted reality where it feels like waiting for things to go back to ‘normal.’”

“No, Merlin. This isn’t the unnatural part.” Arthur’s smile dissolved, princes do do feelings with smiled, “Talking of unnatural parts, Gwaine is going to be joining us. Should I ask how much he knows, or did he make _you_ talk too?”

Merlin shifted awkwardly, “Talk is probably the wrong word. I showed him something hard to refute, and announced this morning before leaving that’s I’m Emrys- I had reasons, I swear- and haven’t spoken to him since.”

Yes. Arthur was quite sure the mad pair- who should never, ever be trusted alone-  were trying to kill him, mentally screaming.

Aloud he said, “Well this should be interesting.”

 

Gwaine was a legitimate reason for midday drinking, wasn’t he? Merlin _with_ Gwaine had to be. He demanded his servant, who was a _terrible_ servant, hand him a cup of very expensive wine, and get out mead. Aforementioned terrible servant did so… but then he had _met_ Gwaine.

Who, while irritating, unlike Merlin, knocked and waited to be admitted to the prince’s sacrosanct private space.

“Afternoon Princess.” He grinned “Either I’m interrupting something, or there are more guests than just me.”

He turned towards the shut door, “Should I dismiss the guards or…?”

Merlin grinned, “Don’t bother Gwaine, this place has had a silencing charm over it since that one time Arthur was-”

“ _Anyway_ ” Arthur glared at Merlin, “I believe the we are each on much the same page, but there really does need to be some organising, like training. _With_ training. Gwaine, what do you know of Merlin’s _status_?”

“So you’re really going to do this then, Princess?” Gwaine quirked a brow, genuinely curious.

 

“Gwaine _concentrate, for the love of god!”_

 

The man huffed out “Don’t get your knickers in a twist Princess.”

His expression turned serious. “I know enough. He knows mine, and what I’ve chosen.”

“So, you’re in a non cooperative mood? I really don’t have time to play games with you Gwaine.”  
The knight leaned back, “As I said, I can _tell_ you _my own_ secrets, not everyone else’s.”

 

Arthur groaned, deciding to rip off the poultice fast. “Right. Gwaine here is the bastard son of king Caerleon and has been voluntarily living in exile day to day for years. Merlin- How much can I share?”

Merlin cast his eyes down to the side, muttering “Everything.” Arthur tried not to show his surprise, “Alright, Merlin is a Dragonlord, and apparently a Warlock who is also called Emrys.

I want to know what information you have on the Catha, for practical purposes, as Merlin needs to practice with any of their non-magic weapons. The other type are not accessible… and you’re going to train him to use it, because I _know_ you aren’t only skilled with a sword, or you wouldn’t have lived so long. You’re good, but you’re not invincible. There is to be a reshuffle of sleeping arrangements so Merlin will have his own room near the physician’s but not _with_ him, as you lot might ‘catch’ him sneaking out again. You have my permission to injure the idiot for accidentally leaving a power struggle behind him and general idiocy. I’m sure you’ll think of plenty of reasons. I have work to do to. Geoffrey will be helpful for accessing difficult information, Gaius is… not currently involved.”

 

Gwaine ran his hands through his hair, blowing out a _long_ breath. “Right. That’s a _lot t_ o be starting with. I, like any sane man, avoided the Catha like the plague. They are- well the best I can explain it is Druid warrior priests. They differ from the general druidic clans fundamentally in that they are _not_ pacifists. Not prone to _starting_ conflicts, but known well for _finishing_ them. If you disarm one, they are still armed, and not only with magic. Even I had the sense not to get close enough to examine the weapons. Your best bet for finding weapons like _that_ is down in the vaults, which no one really knows the contents and layout of, do they? Or was someone carefully filing them with notes as they were gathered in?”

 

There was silence and the sound of a frustrated prince throwing something at the wall.

Merlin leaned forward, elbows on the table, “Thanks for avoiding me with that you prat. I uh- might have a solution for getting into your guarded vaults and a layout with tripping every single thing to kill or curse you. How do you feel about using ghosts with a grudge for recon?”

Gwaine’s eyes lit up, “We can _do_ that?”

Merlin shook his head “ _I_ can do that, and pass on reports and maps to you. They can’t really hold quills, or parchment.”  
Arthur wasn’t happy, “How dangerous would it be without them?”

 

Merlin didn’t mince his answer, he didn’t need to. “For you? Very. You’d die, or be possessed, and it would be very difficult for me to fix or clean up.”

 

Arthur looked at him piercingly, “Why would you be different Merlin?” Before he would have mocked Merlin for suggesting he might be special.

“I just am.”

Gwaine observed him carefully, “Like the lightning?”

The younger man nodded tightly, “I’ll ask them next time I see either of them.

The Prince folded his arms across his chest. “And you think they’ll go along with this?”

  
“Arthur, he had one of them burned at fifteen years old, and the other executed with all but one of his kin. They’ll be more than willing to help us.”

Arthur considered his options. It definitely wasn’t one he liked, but the others involved informing Gaius of what they were doing, and that was… complicated, or going in blind, which as Merlin had pointed out could get them killed. Lord Geoffrey might be an ally but he wasn’t magical and likely couldn’t identify what they needed anyway.

“Do you trust them?”

Merlin didn’t hesitate, “Yes.” He trusted Kilgarrah, who had called Gaius traitor; and the spirits had literally nothing to lose, and everything to gain if the Once and future King, and Emrys were to rise.

 

“Alright. We’ll try it, but if that fails, no more ghost stories, ok.” The prince looked frustrated, but they didn’t have any better suggestions on the table.  
“Aww, I rather like them.” Gwaine smiled at his friend to take some of the sting from Arthur’s clear dislike of the suggestion.

“It’s the best we’ve got Arthur, and I’ve no idea what they use, I _know_ you don’t, or you’d not be standing there. Undead dragonlord gets my vote.”

 

Arthur glowered, “I don’t remember instituting any votes.”

  
Gwaine opted for his fool’s grin.“I know. My point stands.”

 

Merlin chewed his lip, obviously having drifted down a different line of thought, “I can’t demand they serve me if I can’t fight without _that_ _thing_ can I?”

 

Chuckling Gwaine clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Mate, You’re Emrys. You could demand literally anything and they’d compete to give it to you. Sorry, but they’ve been waiting for you for the gods know how long.”

 

He grimaced, “Great. No pressure then. You see why I need to not turn up as- well- _me_.”

Shaking his head at how oblivious to his own power the man seemed Gwaine tightened his grip to retain his attention, “Merlin mate, after watching you the other night, I don’t think you need anything _sharp_ in your hands to impress them.”

 

“Maybe not, but if I want them to unite, I’m going to have to be able to pull off more than the servant look.”  
Gwaine shrugged. “So change your clothes- not the neckie, I get that- and stop slouching. Stand up straight like you do with whats-’is-name, and drop the mask. I guarantee they won’t say no. Hell, if I wasn’t already sworn in service to Arthur here I’d have knelt for you.”  Turning to Arthur as though it was nothing he bowed, “So Princess, you had a chance to consider his appropriate position yet?”

Arthur watched with interest the emotions Gwaine failed to hide, “Not really. I want to get it right, and we are in agreement that this must be done properly or people will panic, and likely start calling me enchanted. Oddly I am thinking far more clearly than in a long time, almost as though a fog is lifting.”

Merlin groaned, knowing that was yet another thing he’d need to investigate in this mess.

 

“Well, we’ve done Merlin and I, Princess. I’m assuming you looked through _all_ the records then.” His face fell sombre. “I did.”

“And?” Gwaine waited.

“I concluded that it was wrong. _I’ve_ been wrong. At best my father was misguided. At worst….” Arthur tailed off before continuing, “The records themselves don’t make sense. Sections are missing, names have been erased. Lines cut off unnaturally. Lands were seized _before_ the death of the relevant Lords. There are family crests I’ve never seen. _Maps_ that I’m told shouldn’t exist. I have to go back to the start. This is us buying time, so that when Merlin and I step out openly as Emrys and- so I’m told- The once and future King, we’re ready. Those defences you mentioned Gwaine? Those need to be implemented, but Merlin hasn’t had access to the learning or time for it until now. I don’t want to announce to Morgana that we’ll be more prepared next time. I _want_ her to underestimate us and lose face. Not as my sister, but as a good choice of commander to serve under. The day for announcing magic returns to my land is not yet upon us. This is the strategising before a long battle, and not one I ever thought I’d need to understand. Magic has hurt my people, and my people have hurt those with magic.”

 

Merlin frowned deeply, drumming on the table,“That’s what we have to change Arthur, you and I. You keep referring to us as _separate. Different._ See, ‘ _my people_ ’, and _‘those with magic_ ’, always. Look at me. Am I not your man? Was Gaius not- however misguided some of his actions-, Morgana fought _beside_ you until she lost hope and fought against us. Language matters. This is why _I_ write your speeches sire. Your people _are_ my people. The quietly farming sorcerer who encourages a little more growth, the healer who whispers over a cut to heal faster. Practice it. Hell, you’ve referred to _me_ differently for years, _in front of me, called me evil,_ and it’s problematic at times.  I care no less for you, but it hasn’t been easy watching and knowing how easily you’d have thrown away my loyalty and sacrifice for one part of me, however important that part is.”

“I’ll try. We all have a long way to go.  Call your council as soon as is practical Merlin. The round table shall be mine, which you are still not getting out of.”

Still reeling from everything Merlin couldn’t hide his surprise. “Really Arthur?”

“Well, if you are in fact this fabled ‘Emrys’, asking my permission is rather a formality rather than necessity, don’t you think?”

 

Merlin looked to him; “Not to me Sire. Not when it is an option to have significant actions sanctioned first. I’ve made a lot of huge decisions completely alone, or almost. Sometimes it works out, sometimes things go wrong, and most would have been smoother working together. This way you don’t accidentally fuck up my meeting or have me followed, and I don’t get caught in a major diplomatic bind that is not in a farmer’s training, nor a physician’s, nor a servant’s, though thankfully I’ve picked up plenty by exposure in the castle.”

Arthur ran his hand down his face, wondering if he wanted to know _all_ of the decisions. As First knight, and Prince, his mistakes cost lives. Merlin’s had to have. When he could tell Merlin about the druid camps, and others, then he could demand explanations. Any man on friendly terms with literal ghosts, or dragons, was clearly not going to have ‘normal’ problems.

“You have your instructions from last night Merlin. Those have not changed, I would appreciate being kept apprised of any changes.

Gwaine, you have yours for when the grudge- holding ghosts help out with required weaponry training. If they _ever_ do.”

Both men indicated their agreement and understanding of the orders. Merlin looked intently at his king before making any move to leave, “Just one thing Sire, if you truly want this to work, it has to go both ways. Any changes, you tell me, any planned raids on what you refer to as ‘my people’, you tell me, and I get the children _out_ … and _no one_ touched Kilgarrah. I believe this can work. I have sacrificed _so much_ for you personally, _and_ for the possibility of freedom in the distant future. It _can_ work _if_ we make it. You and Arthur? We’re the pivot point for whether this becomes a shining light, or the final battle of Camelot. I know which I’d prefer. What are you willing to risk to create it with me.”

Arthur shook his head, “I can’t say with complete conviction right now Merlin, I don’t want to risk the lives of my people- whatever their skills, but I know which I want to be a part of creating.”

 

“Arthur. It’s too late for that. The lives of your people are already at stake. The ‘skilled’ ones will either align with me, or with Morgana, and I’m not about to give them false hope for freedom. It’s too important. Morgana _is_  returning. Regrouping, and then she will mount another attack, from the outside or inside. The battle is coming whether you would invite it or not. Do you stand with me or not? It’s as simple as that.”

Arthur reached over and gripped Merlin’s arm. “Always, my friend, Every time. Don’t tell anyone I said that. Bad enough that _you heard.”_ He looked disgusted that he had allowed something _nice_ to be said to Merlin, even when it mattered.

Merlin searched him for any hint of deception, even knowing it went against his personal code. Satisfied he nodded, “Good. I really didn’t want to be anywhere but at your side. I have your word?”

“As a knight, a Prince, and a man.”

Merlin snorted then grinned. “About bloody time, too. Well then, I’ll get on the very, very long list of things I have to do as three different people. I’ll see you tonight Gwaine. Sire.” Merlin strode from the room before anything could go wrong, feeling as though he’d won some important victory.

 

“There goes the man who insists he’s no leader, and can’t command men.” Muttered his King.

Gwaine arched an eyebrow, “Aye, Princess, and don’t you forget it. He obeys not because he _has_ to, but because he cares for _you_ Arthur and _chooses_ to submit. There are stories Sire, of Emrys, ones that have obviously been carefully kept from Merlin, and in this specific case I agree with them, because frankly they are terrifying. That man, sarcasm, clumsiness and all, has more potential than Sigan ever did. Don’t make him a weapon Sire. Please. When the day comes to choose, remember the servant who dislikes killing fluffy bunnies, and any unnecessary violence. That’s the _man_ behind the legend.”

“You draw a distinction between them?”

“Me? No; but _he_ still does. You were right sire, we _all_ have a long way to go; but we’re getting there.”

“So you’re what he’s busy with tonight?” Arthur tried not to let his jealousy show.

“Only one of them, Princess, one of many. That going to be a problem for you?”  
Arthur scowled, “No, why should I care what a servant does with their time off.”  
“Well, in general you don’t, but you _do_ care what _Merlin_ does, at any time, and you have for a lot longer than you’ll ever admit. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back unbroken.” Gwaine winked.

“Shut up Gwaine. Don’t let tonight make you late for early training tomorrow.”


	30. Chapter 30

Arthur had gone down to check that Merlin hadn’t got distracted and had remembered to go down to move his own things before he left the castle. He knew there wouldn’t be much of a chance to do so if his servant waited until after the evening meal. Reassured when he heard Merlin’s slightly muffled voice he was about to turn around when he realised it may actually be useful to have an indication of what stage Merlin and Gaius were at, so unnatural as it felt to be eavesdropping on _him_ Arthur stayed by the door silently. It became harder not to speak out than he’d anticipated as he understood what Merlin was saying, not shouting, but firm and demanding as he spoke:

 

“What I don't understand was your early reaction. When the purge first began it makes most sense that those around Uther, close to him, would be shocked.

Especially if he ‘wasn’t always like this’, which would imply that he was acting out of character, yet no one was alarmed about any _change_ in his behaviour.

Why were you not shocked at Uther’s madness Gaius?

 

Women die in childbirth all the time. It's unfortunate but it's common. The teaching was that it eventually is the cause of nearly 1 in 3 female deaths when execution is rare. _Everyone_ knows it’s risky.

Even Lord Godwyn’s wife died having Princess Elena. Sure he grieved intensely, but he didn't go on a _killing spree_. No one is surprised at his _lack_ of persecuting specific groups and psychotic break.

People _keep_ trying to tell me _Uther wasn't always like this_ , so either even _that_ is a lie, or you, and others around him did, about the deal made with Nimue.

I am not interested in any excuses, or defence of him. Them. Whatever. I’ve heard enough to keep me nauseated for a lifetime. Why though? Do you realise how little sense that makes unless Camelot was already rotting? You knew why Nimue came back, and that my mother was the price for _my_ deal. You offered yourself but it worked only because I was as close to you as a son, I didn’t know it then but I certainly do now. So was it Uther who made the deal, or did Igraine? Was it someone else. No one is allowed to question her memory at all, but no person is _completely_ pure.

Why is that Gaius, what is he white washing. Himself? His wife's memory? Was he _really_ not like this or did she compensate even as he ruled. Did you let him have his blood-bath of a tantrum because he genuinely did not realise what had led to his barren wife's pregnancy. Or because of your _own guilt_ Gaius. Hell, had he already started slipping into other beds due to her perceived failure or did it come later.

She knew the Lady of Cornwall didn't she. Did she maybe also know about Morgana. What did you say when she asked _you_ the court _physician._ So many questions Gaius, before we even _touch_ on the severe neglect of the education of Arthur and Morgana which may yet bring Camelot crumbling down as the land burns.

 

So many lies to them, _and_ to me.

 

Mum I can forgive. She has literally no way of defending herself, and no one for support, most of which is due to keeping and raising me, I cost her that, and a chance at happiness.

Did you ever tell her that my father was alive. Not even where he was, just that they didn't catch and kill the man.” Merlin paused, seeing Gaius look away, almost as though he felt shame.

Of course he hadn’t. It didn't matter now. It was far too late for that.

“It is not a kindness to leave someone wondering, plagued at night by the gnawing questions. That is a cruelty Gaius. You may have taken me in but it was hardly a selfless decision was it? How long was it before I went into not just the castle but the same room as the Pendragon family? Would you have told me about Balinor if I had been less useful, or continued the same way? The book That brought me such joy then, was that some half assed replacement, or apology for what you denied me; when I crept out at night and came back with answers you didn't ask because you knew where I was.

Gave me no fucking warning about a massive pissed off dragon under the castle either because you assumed I would be fine. Well I nearly wasn't you know. Kilgarrah tried to roast me that first time. Seems like quite a risk to allow in hindsight.  What would you have claimed to mum, because you and honesty seem to have a very distant relationship. I _want_ to believe you again, but I can't just rewind things. Why is it Gaius that you lived when all the rest died? What was the price - before all of _us_ I mean. Uther doesn’t let things go for nothing. What is it that binds you to him? You can tell me yourself, or leave it to someone else, I could force it from you and you know it, but I don’t _do_ things like that. Probably something to be glad of, I’m not...calm… right now, damage would occur. I don’t enjoy causing harm, easing it is far preferable.

I can keep learning medicine from you, keep serving all those that need it, I can provide the ingredients and preparation I always have, at least for now. The rest of my work or purpose is not something I can trust you with, to tell me what I need to know. Or not to tell anyone else things I _don't_ want them to know. Secrets are something you are certainly capable of keeping, extremely skilled at, but I am choosing to no longer have you help keep mine.

I'm sure you didn't foresee exactly what would result, but each choice pushed us all further down this path. Was there no point you wondered if Camelot _deserved_ to be saved Gaius? I understand their fear, but there must have been a moment in the past, more than one, where the people of Camelot could have rebelled, deposed the man and replaced him. The Purge was allowed to continue, and it continues _today_ or I wouldn’t still be hiding from the pyre, would I. Gwen wouldn’t have faced it.” Merlin shook his head, trying to regain some clarity, clenched hands shaking with adrenaline into fists.

 

“You can explain to me in the morning. I've got something to be doing tonight. Excuse me, I need to get my things together for moving. Won't be far away so that I can still do the morning rounds. A few days of calm isn't going to be enough to repair this Gaius. We are a long, long way from done. I know fine well that the mortaeus wasn’t the first night Arthur spent in chains, and what the fuck did you _think_ happened to Morgana when she rebelled? I’m amazed she didn’t try to stab the man in his sleep by fifteen! It is not only my faith you have lost either. You are lucky that Arthur is a far more _forgiving_ man than his father; and a better person than he could ever be.”

 

Merlin shut the door firmly behind him but without slamming it. Explaining to Arthur had acted as a reminder to himself of why he could not afford to wallow and indulge his anger.

It didn't take long to gather all of his worldly goods. Several years in Camelot as a Prince’s servant wasn’t enough to erase seventeen years of surviving on the edge in a border village where he and his mother had had the bare minimum in the way of material goods. He still remembered the horror on Arthur’s face at being in a permanent dwelling with no bed. It wasn’t as though the man hadn’t slept rough before, he could sleep on the forest floor in chainmail, it had been the reality that people existed and lived their whole lives without any bed, mattress, quilt, anything that made his home _home._ Merlin had come to the conclusion that there was a hard-soft quota for everyone, and all of his ‘softness’ had been in the form of humans, particularly his mother. He had no need of a mattress to feel as safe as he _ever_ could, and warm. If it got bad enough there were always hugs. Arthur was surrounded by stone walls and cold meta, his human resources had been as cold and harsh. Extra blankets were necessities.

Not that he’d dared share this theory with the prat. Who would give him a lecture on girly feelings, and send him to clean the stables unnecessarily. Yeah. It might be too full of feeling, but Arthur appeared to ignore the fact that rage, and envy were _also_ feelings and it seemed inconsistent to be fine with rage, and not others.

Merlin had _met_ Morgana before her defection. There was no way the prat would ever have dared accuse her of manliness because of rage. Or deny that she felt it- _oh did she feel it._

 

Arthur had walked away once the door closed, not wanting to risk getting caught, dazed. Too many things. What on earth had happened between them to trigger his friend tearing down everything? He hadn’t been exaggerating about not being able to trust his guardian- well, ex-guardian now, anymore. There was _only_ a professional relationship unless Gaius was willing to lay himself open, and Arthur had known the man all his life. Open did not sound like Gaius’ natural state. Nimue and deals he couldn’t afford to think about yet, it was too big, but there had been suggestions of something before. He wished he could remember who it had been.

 

Merlin cast a glamour over his awkwardly shaped and illegal things, and left, noting from the corner of his eye a hollow-eyed physician who looked older than he’d ever seen him. Guilt tugged at his gut, but he needed to understand. Wanted to grasp how things had gone so wrong to know how to even begin to fix it. Everything just seemed so _big,_ messy and tangled. How did everyone expect him to fix it when they wouldn’t tell him or admit what was wrong, and they thought _he_ had a mental condition.

Leaning his forehead against the door that he’d been allocated Merlin took a deep breath, opening it with a shove of his shoulder. Looking around it his jaw dropped. Someone had been given quite specific instructions, it wasn’t completely overdone for an apprentice physician and regent’s personal servant. Unlike his old room there was space to swing a cat- if one was into cat swinging, which Merlin definitely wasn’t, and a proper desk, a bookcase and proper insets for lamps. Parchment that wasn’t on it’s fourth reuse, a knight’s bed that he raised a row at, and an extra blanket in red. He knew Arthur would play that off as possessiveness but he wasn’t fooled and smiled. It was soothing after leaving Gaius with such a difficult parting. There were a lot of things he hadn’t included in his conversations with friends. Even with the new not-lying thing, ‘sharing’ anything unresolved would take quite some time. There were more options for hiding and storage of magical items- notably a large locking chest that most servant-physicians would _not_ have. He smiled, it was effectively an unspoken acknowledgement that Merlin would have items not currently legal and Arthur was accepting it.

His meagre personal possessions fitted easily onto the bed while he mentally organised them. There was a gentle knock at the door, not many would know already where he was, which drew a frown, but most threats wouldn’t knock. Neither Gwaine nor Arthur were gentle though.

Opening it he found a blushing Gwen instead. “My Lady.” He bowed, it was still novel to her and raise a blush, which Merlin found rather sweet and reminiscent of the girl he’d first met in the marketplace. “Still just Gwen, Merlin. I wanted to check that things were right, or you know, if you needed anything different.”

“ _Gwen,_ when have I ever needed anything for me? This way anyway.” He winked, “It’s lovely. I assume you sorted most of this then?”

“Actually Merlin, Arthur gave me quite a specific list. Apparently he has no idea where any laundry or blankets are kept and trusted me not to tell everyone immediately where you’ve moved to.” He smiled at her willingness to help, “Thanks Gwen. It’s as big as my house was growing up. “I know, it’s so strange at first. I left extra candles in the cupboard until you work out the best set up, and there’s a washbasin and… you know,  and towel. I figured anything extra you’d notice yourself. So uh- when do I get to meet her? Or him? I mean I saw you with My Lady, and Kara so I just assumed…”

“Um? I’ve missed something. Meet who?”

“Well you’ve been here for a few years and stayed with Gaius so I just thought when you wanted your own space that- I mean- I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Merlin took her hands, shaking his head gently, “No, not at all, I don’t think they’re ready for that sort of introduction yet, but I’ll be sure to pass on your well wishes. It’s… nice...that you care, especially when you have so many of your own things to worry about, the concern is touching.”

 

So much for no more lies, sighed Merlin, but he really wasn’t ready to explain any of what was happening between him and Gaius right now, and that would need so many other explanations. Better she assume a partner for now than a huge rift and the truth. Especially as she was having to care for Uther while he was _unwell_. Merlin was required often enough to help medicate or sedate the man to know better than any except Arthur, Gaius, and Gwen how things really were, he was able to make short, subtly supervised, appearances to control rumours. If he was unstable before, he was wildly unpredictable now. That Gwen was still calm and largely sensible despite all of it was amazing to Merlin.

 

“Right, unfortunately my day is far from over, so I can’t linger to investigate the way I’d like, nut I look forward to properly trying it out. One thing though, the bed is not a servant’s.”  
“No, that was uh… _specified_ by Arthur.”

“Ok. Well, he seems to have bashed his head recently and decided that maltreatment of poor manservants is ‘wrong’, I’ll take it while it lasts, as the universe can’t be so kind as to allow that to last.” Merlin grinned, and got an understanding smile from Gwen in response, she knew the life of a servant well, even if _her_ mistress had been uncommonly kind _before_.

“Oh, one thing. You’ll being needing these.” She held out two iron keys.   
“I really don’t think I will, those are _keys Gwen.”_

She nodded, looking at him as though he was slow. “Yeeees, and that is a lock.” She pointed to the door. “The smaller one is for the chest. I won’t ask why. I doubt it’s knowledge I _want.”_

Gwen knew all about the drawers of shame. Every noble had one. If you were very lucky it was only one.

Merlin stared at the heavy keys in his hand. His. “ _That_ is going to take some getting used to.”

“No different to carrying _theirs_ about really, just don’t lose it, or do anything stupid if the knights trick you into drinking with them.” She looked at him indulgently. Evil woman. She had blackmail on every one of them. “Yeah, thanks for that. I’ll be careful. Go on, you can visit tomorrow, when I’ve worked out where things go.”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving. Good luck Merlin.” There was a sly hint in he smirk she gave him as she left. Great. Apparently the default assumption was hidden lover. Maybe it would quash the rumours about he and Arthur, he suspected it would just split the betting pool though. There were outside odds on he and Lance he knew, but Lancelot was the straightest man he’d ever met, that was just _throwing_ their money away. Merlin himself though was betting on the cook’s daughter and a certain stable boy, so he couldn’t judge them particularly harshly.

He felt the chill as someone slipped silently into his room, unseen.

“So she seems sweet.”

Merlin smiled at her unsubtle prodding, thinking that women were all the same- a sentiment he was no longer foolish enough to give voice to. “You were watching the whole time then?”

“Nooo,” The ghost grinned, “only since the bed’s too big part.”

“That’s not better Eileen.”

She shrugged. “Who am I going to tell?”

He looked at her, “I honestly don’t know how to answer that.”

She smirked, “I promise not to tell the crazy one?”

Merlin laughed, “Gwaine will _know_ , he has a bizarre sense of anything bedroom related, I haven’t asked how, and I don’t intend to _ever_ ask.”

“Your lack of curiosity troubles me.”

“And your _interest_ in our love-lives troubles me, but what can you do?”

“Well-”

“Don’t. Please, for the love of the goddess do NOT finish that sentence.” There was nothing good that could possibly come of that Merlin was sure.

“Oh. Ok.”

Merlin placed the magical objects and books that fit inside it in the large chest, covering it with a cloak. Perhaps he could find a way to increase that. Could one maybe bend or fold space? He’d seen old aunts knitting socks and the length of spun wool that went into a small space that stretched out was outrageously long. Maybe it _could_ be done…

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a smaller voice then, “Actually, I came to say yes. I can do it. The thing you asked, he should know. Someone has to show him. I _can_ do that _Merlin._ ”

 

“Alright. You remember you can stop at _any_ time.”

“I will. I promise Emrys. Now what are you going to do about this non existent lover your friend now thinks you have.” Merlin groaned.

“I have _no_ idea.”

“You could find a real one?” Suggested Eileen brightly.

Merlin ran fingers through his hair. “Oh goddess, I have enough complications in my life right now.”

“Possibly. At least it’s not boring.” She seemed so cheerful about that Merlin felt oddly guilty about craving some peace and quiet.

“No. No, that’s one thing my life is definitely not.”

“Well, I’d offer to stand in, but somehow I don’t think that would help your case with her. Who does _she_ belong with?”

“Who, Gwen?” The ghost nodded an affirmation.

“That’s...that’s complicated Eileen. _I_ think Arthur, but I’m not sure _she_ knows who she belongs with now it’s not Morgana. She’s his true love anyway. What that means I’m not entirely sure, at least if things change.”

 

“Do you think there’s only one love for each person, Merlin?”

The warlock laughed, bitterness leaching into the tone,

“Oh, I am _not_ the one to ask about _that_ Eileen. If you want useful advice on love and its philosophy there’s a bunch of honourable knights just _waiting_ for a girl like you. Me? These days I think some people are just born to be different. Perhaps less loveable, or just dangerous to love. One day I’ll have my answer either way. What about you?”

The ghost looked at him sadly, “I think that there is no such thing as _too much_ love as you mean it. It’s tricky in this language. Some have many different words for love. There can be too much or too little of some of those sub types. Maybe for those that have only a little time there is only one person, but it would be so sad if that to be true for all. Too many problems. No. I’ve had to watch, observe only, for a long time. I have come to believe that love is a choice people make. They can reject it, or accept it, hoard or share it. It is powerful though. Never underestimate the power of love Merlin. It will drive people on even where fear fails.”

 

Merlin scowled, “You couldn’t just be like one of the girls who write Arthur terrible verses.”

Eileen placed a cold hand against his cheek. “What use would I be to you then? You have to let go of resentment Merlin. Let the anger come but do not hold it in your heart.”

He wondered if there was something wrong with him that it actually helped. “I promise to be in a better mood later about _everything_. Gwaine agreed to try flying with me and Kilgarrah.”

She raised a brow as though he was missing something obvious, “Did he now? Late night then?”

Merlin sighed, “ _Long night_ ” more like. I also have to try and get in contact with some of the druid chiefs- damn I also said I’d ask you and Lachlan if you can help me sneak into a bit of the castle without any messy accidents, do you think he could turn up tomorrow, when I’m not attempting not to strangle any old men?”

“Of course Merlin. Now hurry up!”

He looked at the room and decided that there was no convenient floorboards to remove here so shoving a sidhe staff under his mattress was as good as he was going to get right now.

Merlin locked his own door for the first time and ran, letting that thought buoy him.

 

\-------------------------------------

Arthur was unsettlingly quiet as Merlin dressed him for dinner.

“Sire? Is there something wrong?”

“My father is a genocidal possible lunatic no longer fit to lead the kingdom, my servant might need replacing and is going to attempt to unite a people he didn’t realise he led, and I have to go eat with the man without appearing mentally disturbed by what he encouraged between me and my sister, what could possibly be wrong?”

“No one is bleeding, the castle’s not on fire, and I haven’t organised boring George for you tonight. You’re going to be ok. For you I mean.”

“I suppose a night without brass jokes _is_ an improvement on one full of them.” Arthur tried.

“I always thought so.” He really, really did.

Merlin finished lacing Arthur’s sleeve, “You know Gwen is speculating about possible causes of me being granted a new room.Apparently the leading theory is secret lover.”

Arthur smirked, “You knew this would happen, didn’t you, you prat!”

“That my _dear_ Lady Guinivere would be given to speculation and inaccurate gossip about your new accommodations?” Arthur grinned fiendishly at Merlin, “You suspect that _I_ , with my years of honourable, courtly training around such women believed she might be prone to relationship theories? Yes Merlin, I absolutely did. I’m amazed it’s taken her this long to be honest with you, given she got the list for contents this morning.”

“Oh gods, the kitchen’ll know by now. Then the larger bed was in fact _your_ doing, _sire?_ ”

Arthur smirked at him, “Why, I can’t possibly imagine what you mean Merlin. Must be a mistake, still, it’s far too late change now, and then I’d have to explain why I was punishing you in such a…. _Personal_ fashion.”

“Ooh, I really hate you sometimes you Clotpole.”

‘Well yes, I believe that might be the conclusion drawn too, so it shall simply have to remain as it is now.”

Merlin groaned. “Right, fine. You are… ready. It’s easier than it seems at first, or I guess it _gets_ easier. Just try and slightly steer the conversation to either neutral topics or totally unrelated things to catch his attention. If all else fails I can knock something.”

Arthur searched him as he stood back, looking just as he always did- always _had_. “You always knew what you were doing each evening you stood next to me, didn’t you?”

Merlin caught his eye and saw the confusion there; “I took a calculated risk sire. There was always a risk, wherever I was, that the king would discover me and I’d burn.  Nowhere is safe. There was only one place I could effectively protect you from stuff like hurled daggers and poison. Your life is worth more than my own. I was never here to serve him, though it has on occasion been _required_ of me, I was here to protect and serve _you._

I try not to see him at _dinners_ as a king, and instead as simply my friend’s father. It makes things easier, and instincts less reactively defensive.”

“Why did you-”

“I’ll answer any of your questions sire, but right now I am...edgy….existential angst or questions are not a great topic tonight. I spoke to Gaius and it was taxing.”

Arthur nodded, noting that Merlin gave no external sign of his internal conflict or the scale of his recent argument with his mentor. Arthur knew his own reaction would not have been so subtle and restrained. It was one more thing to add to his greater understanding of his men.

 

Merlin stayed in his usual place on their way to the hall, giving both a sense of sameness that had been lacking recently. Not that either would go back to ignorance, but the structure and routine was beneficial for both their sanity. Quiet meals between Arthur and his father were in many ways harder for Merlin to deal with than the large feasts. It was almost painful. Despite all of his failings, at least Gaius had recognised that children and youths responded well to acceptance and encouragement over open rejection and cruel criticisms.

Merlin concentrated on the fact it was almost over and he could see Kilgarrah and Gwaine, until it _was_.

If Merlin had to design two polar opposite experiences of dinner it would be himself and Hunith, set against Arthur and Uther. There had been seasons they nearly starved in Ealdor, while Lavish feasts were thrown in the court here, but he’d yet to see genuine laughter between the two men.

The evening was mercifully short and Merlin set the fire for the night before he left the prince alone. Arthur sat down at the desk he’d been avoiding before Merlin’s arrival, glaring as though it had personally wronged him. “Is there anything else you need sire?”

Arthur’s brows pulled downwards as he tried to makes sense of the insensible documents. “There are many things I need Merlin, but none that you can help with tonight. Go, try and find some relief from all of this. God knows we’ll have little enough coming. You start training with Gwaine tomorrow. The pair of you have a fortnight, then we’re going on a hunting trip.”

Looking a the sprawl of parchments and old books covering Arthur’s desk Merlin bowed and took his leave, he knew fine well that come morning the prince would have come up with some new way to torture him, most likely involving the apparently evil documents.

 

\----------------------------------------

Gwaine was waiting for him by the stables, two horses saddled.

“They didn’t ask, or argue?” Merlin was astonished, the stable hands always objected to him taking animals out late.

“Question a knight? Really? No stable-hand does that. If they’re careful hiding they might even see why a handsome knight requires a second beast now, mightn’t they? Handy knowledge that.”

Merlin groaned, _“Gwaine! Why!_ Are you and Arthur working together to make my life awkward.”

“Well no, but actually that’s a much better idea. Thanks Merlin.” Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder and swung up into the saddle. “So are you coming or not? I wheedled some snacks out of a kitchen maid who fancies you.”

“Oh, well that makes it fine then.” Merlin scoffed, but he mounted anyway with a grin. “Same place as the other night Merlin?”

“Yeah.” The warlock answered, “There aren’t that many safe places to meet him round here with enough space.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Gwaine smiled and signalled his own horse to leave. Unimpressed the creature looked round, it wasn’t the normal time to be going out. “Go on Gary, just tonight.” Persuaded Merlin. Gwaine would have sword the beast rolled it’s eyes and snickered but cooperated this time as Merlin’s followed, quiet until they were through the gates .

“You named him _Gary_? What kind of a name is that for a horse?”

“Nooo, I named Gareth. He prefers it though, who am I to argue with his choices?”

Gwaine stared at his friend, “You don’t _argue_ with horses Merlin. You tell them.”

“See that attitude is exactly why he was being obstinate in the first place, isn’t it Gary?” The horse whinnied.

“Hey, you’re supposed to back me up here Gareth!” The horse snorted. “Fine, be like that.”

Merlin couldn’t help laughing at Gwaine’s sulky pout.

 

Past the immediate view of the city walls the pair took off quickly for Kilgarrah’s clearing, dismounting a little way before it, at Gwaine’s questioning look his friend shrugged, “Horses are not big fans of dragons, they spook. Better to leave them tied here with some decent wards around them, and bring back an apple as reward. Or oats.” That made sense thought Gwaine. If _he_ was a horse, he would be running in the opposite direction to a giant, fire breathing carnivore.

Merlin strode out into the clearing and throwing back his head bellowed in the language that Gwaine knew he hadn’t a hope of understanding, sitting down he took out some of the bread and cheese the maid had handed him. “Hey, Merlin, come eat something while himself is on his way.”

The man sat down next to him and grabbed a slice. It was different sharing food with Gwaine to Arthur. “Thanks.”

“Rough day?”

“I spoke to Gaius; and moved out.”

“Ah. That sounds tough.”

Merlin laughed harshly, “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“No one’s on fire?”

“No”, the man rolled his eyes, as if he do that.

“Anything exploded?” Gwaine seemed worryingly unconcerned.

“Not this time.”

He shrugged, “Sounds successful to me. You kept full control of yourself, the castle didn’t tremble or anything. I’m proud of you Merlin. It’s never easy to hold someone you love to account for what they do or say. Especially if they care for you in return.”

Merlin sighed, wishing there was an easier way and knowing the wasn’t,

“Can’t disagree there. Oh, we should have at least one assistant for spying by morning.”

“I’m so glad the bored ghosts _like_ you Merlin.”

_“I_ have distinctly mixed feelings about that.” replied the accidental friend of ghosts.

“So are we going to ignore the being lightning proof and able to walk through the vaults thing completely?”

“Yep” Emrys didn’t look round.

“Alright. How long for.”

“Forever, if I’m lucky. Until Arthur figures it out if not.”

“Ah. Okay. Tell me you at least still get the thrill of being so far off the ground though.”

“Hell yes. The adrenaline high still works, and unfortunately so does pain.”

“That sucks mate.”

Merlin shot him a grim look, “It really does.”

“So when did you start going up?”

Merlin grinned, “When I needed to travel very, very fast.”

Gwaine laughed, “Ah, so this was an _accidental_ discovery then.”

“Maybe a little bit, but I don’t think I’m exactly Kilgarrah’s first!”

A cold draught of air blew over them.

“I should say _not_ young warlock. You think in a thousand years, sir knight I wouldn’t have shared the sky with a Dragonlord?”

“It’s not something I ever gave much consideration to. Good night Kilgarrah.”

“That it is, sir knight. I sense that things have changed. What troubles you My Lord?

“Many things Kilgarrah; before we leave I will need you to explain what you can of the Catha, but I wish to ask a favour of you first, Gwaine here has been very _understanding_ and if you are amenable I would like to take him up. It’s impossible to explain that, any of it with words.”

“He is choosing of his own accord?”

Gwaine folded his arms across his chest, “Oi! Don’t you accuse Merlin of influencing folk to danger against their will, he’s a good man. Of course I’m choosing myself. If I assure you I don’t think you’re a horse will you show me? I brought apples for them, but no sheep for you- Merlin assured me that sheep and deer are preferred over stringy maidens and suchlike. If you want to insult someone for their grey morality I’m here.”

Merlin shoved his friend, “Shut up Gwaine. You’re right, I wouldn’t, but my morals are a _lot more flexible_ than most so maybe don't encourage him to focus on those.” He turned to Kilgarrah. “Please? You and I can go up properly after.”

“I never could say no to you Young Warlock.”

Merlin choked, “That’s a filthy lie and you know it ‘Garrah!”

“Up you go then. Sir knight, remove your cape. It is not designed for flight, and do not. Let. Go.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, Sir dragon.”

Kilgarrah blew smoke at him, “Great Dragon, or Kilgarrah will do.”

Gwaine threw his heavy cloak aside, covering their bag of food and accepted Merlin’s help up gladly.

“Gods, this has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done, an’ I’ve done a lot of crazy shit in my time.”

“You will in future too. Shut up, literally, and hold tight.” Gwaine obeyed his first friend and the biggest creature of the Old religion launched himself into the air.

It was unlike anything Gwaine had ever felt. The air rushing past them, the freedom, and the thump of his heart in his ears. His arms tightened around Merlin as his knuckles went white holding Kilgarrah’s ridge. His eyebrows almost flew off his forehead when Kilgarrah, despite his so far very calm and sensible flying dipped and Merlin threw his arms outwards, barely holding on. It was then that Gwaine actually understood how deep the trust and bond went.

_He_ was a brave man, he knew that, there was little he feared, and he always faced those things head on, but the thought of letting go or standing up a-dragonback made his blood run cold. Merlin was so certain Kilgarrah wouldn’t allow any harm to come to him he was quite willing to take what looked to _Gwaine_ to be crazy risks; and he _knew_ that Merlin had deliberately toned it down for his sake. The other thing he could see though was the undiluted, utter joy that this gave him, and it was a look he wanted to see on Merlin more often. Looking down he could see the forest, farmsteads, a couple of rivers running down to converge in the middle of a valley. Merlin was right, it was beautiful. _This_ was what he was protecting, what he fought for. What _Arthur_ fought to protect. Keeping his mouth shut didn’t work though, there was no way to contain the manic grin as they flew. It was different to trying to move with the movements of any horse, but he thought would be something you got used as quickly. He almost missed Merlins call over the sound of the wind rushing by them, “Take us down ‘Garrah, I think that’s enough a first time.” The dragon rumbled. Gwaine was certain he was laughing at him, and at that moment he didn’t care a whit. The Great Dragon could say anything he fucking liked, Gwaine wasn’t going to argue with him. At least not until his legs worked again, because they felt like they were made of jelly!

Gliding in to land gracefully Kilgarrah turned to him instead, “You did well sir knight. For a first timer _and_ for a non Dragonlord.” Merlin jumped down grinning wildly to catch Gwaine as he slid off, apparently familiar with the initial wobbliness. “Wait for me Kilgarrah?”

“Of course my Lord.”

“Drop the titles ‘Garrah, it’s _Gwaine._ ” Merlin was still beaming as he helped his friend back to his cape and the picnic bag it covered. He produced a hidden flask of mead, and one of water. “Here, that should help recover from it, bit of a shock the first time around. Would you mind if I went up properly, not for long, just to- it was a tough day.”

Gwaine waved him off, “Go, shoo, I’ll be fine.” Merlin almost did, before realising something and half shouting “You already know!”

That seemed a bit obvious to Gwaine at this point, who raised his eyes to the sky begging for patience. “I don’t have to hide it! Here.” He held out a hand and spoke in the old tongue. “ _Now_ you’ll be fine.” He winked.

Gwaine shook his head at his friend, still grinning, “Go on, piss off, you’ve got someone waiting on you, I believe you and there’s mead. Shoo!” Merlin turned and ran back to Kilgarrah, swinging up easily and pausing just for a moment to whisper to the ancient dragon, “Lachlan wishes you to know that he is glad you are finally free. Let’s go, Leave the earth behind us Kilgarrah.”

“As you wish Merlin.” Far out of hearing range Gwaine watched fascinated from the sidelines as without any of the slowness or care he knew they‘d used with _him_ the pair took to the sky, climbing immediately towards the clouds, Merlin’s arms thrown out as they looped, swooped, and he was sure that at one point Merlin jumped from Kilgarrah’s back allowing him to catch his Lord. Merlin appeared to have completely forgotten someone was watching, though fortunately there were not indications of anything suspicious that could be easily spotted. He lost track of them for a while but the speed they were going upon return had even Merlin holding on as he howled, though it sounded more battlecry than distress to Gwaine. It certainly settled for Gwaine which of them was madder. Merlin was without a doubt lacking any sort of normal survival instinct whatsoever.

He was far calmer when the pair came down, both men were really, Merlin sliding down with pupils blown and looking like he’d found some form of evasive inner peace, radiating ecstasy, admitting defeat by gravity he did slump against Kilgarrah’s foreleg as the beast chuckled, “Is that better, young warlock.”

“Gods, _so much better_ . Thank you for taking me where I cannot run alone old friend.  I do need to get some advice, but not on a course of action this time, you have a great deal of experience and we have need of it. For it to be effective you must not filter things through your own personal interests. No inbuilt strategy. Too many people doing so have brought Camelot to its knees and split the coin apart. Arthur knows now. He knows a great deal, and still has much to learn, as do I. I _want_ to get this right. No new Morgana’s or- or Uther’s. I think we disappointed many people by not being wise adults when it was convenient. Now we’re going to disappoint a lot of people by be trickier to manipulate. Turns out Gwaine here has a brain, and hasn’t managed, despite his best efforts, to pickle it yet. He’s helping fill in history, and Geoffrey is _rediscovering_ certain records and histories. I didn’t have many options with Nimue at the Isle, and I refuse to regret my actions in saving them that day when she gave only two choices, but I do regret not understanding the meaning of that or the results. It’s time I repaired what I have broken in naivete. You are not without responsibility in this Kilgarrah as you well know. I am offering you a chance to put right some poor choices made in a past influenced by darkness and fear. What do you say? Help me lay some of the foundations of Albion? “ The great dragon grinned.

“I am at your service Emrys, as is the Magic of this world. All the creatures of the Old religion that are not of Dark magic. Our allegiance has always been yours, they wait only for you to be ready to claim it. Though theirs will not be the same as my own as they are not kin as we are.”

Merlin swallowed, _that_ he hadn’t understood. “I think that the day for the to offer it is not far away, I am not ready Old friend; but now together we will become so. The Once and future King  begins to awaken.”

“I look forward to seeing you both standing openly together. You will have different fights Merlin, for the same cause. Legends like yours are birthed in fire and blood, like Morgana’s taking of Camelot, and her defeat.”

“You’re so comforting. It’s like having a conversation with a big fluffy kitten.”

“You asked for truth My Lord.” the dragon stated in reproach.  
Merlin sighed, “I did.”

“Who is to teach you to fight better?”

Merlin grimaced, “Gwaine.”

Kilgarrah huffed smoke. “Sir knight, you are required.”

“Am I indeed? Well, thank you for waiting until my legs worked properly again, and Kilgarrah, it truly was an honour to be permitted to share that.” His sincerity was clear in the tone.

The great dragon smirked “It was, young knight. You made me an oath before, this is how you fulfil it, is it not?”

Gwaine stood calmly, his full attention on the massive creature before him, “I’ll do anything I can.”

Kilgarrah rumbled in response. “The Catha are flexible. They allow _every_ weapon. You cannot fully prepare to fight them as a group, as some adopt the axes of the northmen- throwing and battle, all of them can use long knives together, some used the curved swords they saw with traders and inherited.

Others use double edged swords, all can fight hand to hand. All can use poison darts, poison anything really, long and short staffs are expected, archers aren’t their typical style, but I was trapped for twenty years, they may have updated to tactics that are less close- quarter.

They do not typically use war horses. Obviously there are whole branches of magic that you have never seen, both defensive and offensive… and they do not give up. Like a predator stalks his prey, there is a strong ‘death or glory’ theme there.

Much like your knights that way. Anyone who joins or directs them would receive an identifying mark, as would the leader of the druids. Hiding would require a lot more effort”

 

Merlin groaned, he’d wondered about that, but it was very inconvenient, “I think that’s going to be the case anyway Kilgarrah.  Especially having moved away from Gaius.”

Managing this time not to snap at his name the dragon managed to be _almost_ comforting.

“Yes. I know you cared for the old man.”  
Merlin rubbed a hand down his face, “I still _do_ , that’s what makes it so difficult.”

The dragon hummed for a minute seeming to consider something, “Human hearts are fragile, but they can betray you Merlin, be careful.”

The man waved _that_ off, “No more speculation about my heart. _Please_.”

Kilgarrah looked thoroughly confused and Merlin sighed. “Gwen- the girl who broke Arthur’s love spell and chastised him- is convinced I’m sneaking off with a secret lover for illicit liaisons, and trying to guess who.” Kilgarrah snorted.

“I’m many things Merlin, but none of those except perhaps secret.”

“Thanks, I’m well aware of _that_.” the warlock snorted.

 

Amused, Gwaine raised a brow at him, “The stable-hand will tell her by breakfast you rode out with me.”

“Yes, but _you_ are an ass Gwaine.”

The knight feigned offence, “Hey, I’ll have you know I have a _great_ ass thank you.”

“I know but- I mean- ugh, you _prat._ ” Merlin rolled his eyes at his friend but Gwaine was laughing hysterically by then.

Giving that up as a lost cause Merlin turned back to the dragon, “I need to call a Druid High Council. How do I do that?”  
Kilgarrah kept his eye fixed on the man, “You already know Merlin. Trust yourself. The power will _not_ destroy you. It responds to your wishes, it does not use _you_. Do you think I would have help you at all if I doubted you Merlin? Was cushioning your feelings that way how we ever worked.”

Merlin snorted, remembering some of their conversations _before_ he was Kilgarrah’s Dragonlord.

“No. No it was not. Thanks Kilgarrah. That helps more than it should. So did flying.”

“Always my Lord. Go, before the night ends, Emrys; Albion Awaits… and Merlin, I never doubted you.”

Gwaine bowed to the Great dragon, once again thanking Kilgarrah and swearing to protect his dragonlord, no matter how well said dragonlord could protect himself, and hauled Merlin to his feet leaving him to say his own goodbye.

 

“Come on Merlin, we have some very patient horses to spoil with apples if you want to get back to the castle with time to do any of those things _or_ sleep.”

“I guess at this point it is really an either or choice”

“Isn’t it always when you do this.”

Merlin laughed, “Pretty much. Yeah. Worth it though.”

 

“Aye, I can see that. It’s something else, that. Do you ever get used to it, the sensation or checking how far the ground is?”

Merlin appeared to consider that, “It’s different. Like finding where you belong. Where you were always _meant_ to be. It’s like going home. On the ground I _belong_ next to Arthur, my King. So many others believe they have claims on me too.  In the sky I belong to no one, it’s freeing. Not a bad way to get a rush without risking death either.” Merlin’s smile was real tonight.

Gwaine did think it amusing that his friend equated free fall from the back of a dragon with ‘not rising death’, but each to their own. “There has to be an easier way than that. It’s a unique type of stress relief though, I’ll grant you. Not one I plan on taking up anytime soon, but it _was_ amazing. I think I just slow you two down a bit too much to be a frequent flier.”

 

“Hmm. Yeah. He’s pretty committed to his ‘not a horse’ stance too, unlike this pair.”

Gwaine had managed to fit two apples for each of the horses into their saddle bag so they were quite quickly forgiven the abandonment as Merlin lifted the wards against any harm.

“So do you want to ride Gary back, since he apparently likes you better?”

“Nah, I’m good with Trixie here, amn’t I?” Merlin scratched behind her ear and waited for her to finish munching before mounting. “Trixie? You called a horse- You know what, I don’t want to know.”  
“It’s short for Beatrix. I read her a book once.”

The knight side eyed him oddly, “Have you ever thought that maybe you spent too much time in those stables?”

 

“All the time. Thing is, the prat doesn’t seem to realise that the stable boys get offended if I steal their work, ‘cause then they don’t get paid for it. So when they do I have to do _something_ that isn’t _always_ illegal.”

“Fair enough.” The Princess probably _didn’t_ know that punishing Merlin was cutting a stable boy’s wages.

As much as he was functioning outwardly as usual, Gwaine still kept remembering the way it had felt to fly, he didn’t much notice them getting through the city gates. When they had taken care of the mounts Merlin looked over at his slightly dazed friend and laughed, “Yeah, that’ll probably happen for a few days. Don’t worry, they’ll just assume you’re thinking of some pretty lass. I still drift sometimes, not so often though. “You need a hand getting back tonight?”

“I shouldn’t but I’m not gonna turn down an escort that’s offered freely here.”

“Then escort you I shall, drunken shanties, or sneaking in after leaving a bed you should be in tonight.”

“Um… sneaking probably better. Not sure Percival would hold back if we came in singing loudly.”

“Well, at least neither of us has questionable bruises.” Merlin pointed out.

“You’d hide them anyway.”

“I wouldn’t.” He sounded offended at the suggestion.

“‘Course you would, any inconvenient mark, you at least salve it, or you don’t tell anyone, or wear sleeves and neckie most times. There’s easier ways of doing it but less safe.”

Merlin sighed, “I’m beginning to think indecent shanties might be an improvement y’know.”

“Could be. Maybe another night. Can’t bruise though, I promised Arthur not to break you.”

“You are a cruel and twisted man Gwaine, telling him you were coming.”

“He guessed and got all precious about not breaking his toys.” Gwaine winked to let Merlin know he hadn’t done _exactly_ that, as a few years ago he might have done.

“Well, I’ll be sure to defend your honour, such as it is, should he question it in the morning. Goodnight Gwaine.”

“‘Night Merlin _and thank you._ ”

The door closed behind him and Merlin made his way along to his new room with a sense of trepidation. It was only new chambers, but it felt symbolic of something as he unlocked the door to his first independent quarters and sent out tendrils of magic to check it’s safety as he stepped in. Closing the door he relocked it. Partly for novelty, and partly because, for the first time, it felt like they were actually _doing something_ to fix more than an immediate attack, like they were becoming stronger, and Merlin had learned long since that kings, despite their lust for power, did not like strong anything that was not easily theirs to control.  He also lacked any kind of warning or bluff in Gaius’ absence should anyone come in and see him sleep- magicking.

Arthur must have been serious.

Thought of the Prince settled him and Merlin lay down on his unexpectedly comfortably bed, reaching out to the druid’s dreams as he drew on power he usually left alone, excessive as it was. He wanted them to have no doubt this time who was speaking to them. He wouldn’t _have_ to call a council. They would arrange one themselves, and _ask_ him to come. Politely. He smiled. He’d been careful to keep the dreams monster-free. The last thing he wanted was some poor little Seer girl terrified out of her mind somewhere because he had been careless… and had targeted on those untouched by any dark magic or curse. Morgana had a bad habit of finding out things that she Shouldn’t Know. If anyone would know how to shield that, it would be the Druid High Council. He fell asleep having removed only the top layer of windswept, trail muddy clothes, confident that he at least had _some_ good news for Arthur after breakfast.


	31. Chapter 31

Merlin woke to something cold touching him.

Opening his eyes he decided was a mistake, it usually was, but especially today.

“Why you?” His voice was sleep hoarse still and he reached for where he usually kept water to realise he’d forgotten. Sighing he decided that after last night he might as well summon some, it wasn’t going to be the thing they arrested him for.

“Eileen needed to gather her thoughts and compose herself- oh don’t look like that, you didn’t force her, she made the decision on her own, it’s just not an easy thing to relive and she doesn’t want anyone watching her distress. Not exactly unusual, is it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No. I have a task for you, if you’re willing, Gwaine’s a brilliant fighter but there are some thing I need to locate in the vaults. Most of it is either junk, or fancy stuff I’ve no use for. I need to know what is significant, specifically for the Catha, and the High priest. I didn’t realise when I killed Nimue what it would do, or the effect it would have. No one had spoken with me about the balance until two days before, and I ended up holding the power of life and death, it was overwhelming enough at 17 and it was confirmation of something so… Regardless of the reasons, I need to stabilise it, and no one else will. Their only other chance for that would be Morgana, who is… less my opposite than people want to think, but far too much like Uther. Her mind is fractured, she _seeks_ after power. I have been avoiding responsibilities, and I still want to run. It doesn’t feel like _me_.”

 Lachlan stroked his beard. “And yet it is. More often than not men _grow into_ their responsibilities, you will rise to meet the challenge Merlin, if you can accept your own strength.”

“I should have run years ago. I’m not the same person.”

The old dragonlord cocked his head, “If you had Camelot would have fallen long ago, Gwen, Arthur, Leon, Gaius, they’d all lie dead, and hundreds more with them. As she was, Morgana couldn’t have managed crops, in anger would have burned as she went, and more would have suffered. You’ve made mistakes, but you’re still the same man Merlin. Life tempers those like us as a steel blade in fire- you’ll be needing one of those by the way.”

“No, I’m terrible with a sword.”

 “Against champions, yes, but the average bandit? You’re decent. That’s not what I meant though. You’ll need a curved blade if you are looking to accept their allegiance and lead. A set of long knives, and a ceremonial blade for rituals. Forget archery, anything from a further range would be magic, up close I’d expect you to use magic as your first weapon, always, but back ups and skills are never wasted. You need to study the use of dark magic in offensive battles, it’s the most dangerous to those like us. Don’t touch it, don’t practice it- at least for this kind of thing- but to counteract that you must _understand_ what you fight or you lose valuable time in dangerous situations.  You wouldn’t send Arthur against a highly skilled opponent with no knowledge of use of a shield, would you. Find the shield.

Practice with throwing knives, axes aren’t likely to suit you, but are deadly as a properly used mace. Any armour used by the Catha is enchanted. It’s lighter, stronger, they can move faster and with fewer limitations on mobility in it as a result.”

 “You’re not making this sound less daunting you know.”

“You’ve all had enough of lies. Honey coating the truth won’t help you, it’s still bitter to swallow.”

Merlin ran his hands down his face, “Fuck. I have to talk to Gaius, don’t I?”

“Give it time Merlin. Whatever the outcome, days are not enough for over twenty years of conditioning to fall away. Or for a lifetime's. You haven’t acted in anger really.”

“I had to call Kilgarrah after yesterday.”

“I should think _so_ Merlin _._ ”

“He took Gwaine up.”

Lachlan smiled slowly, “Did he now? Wonders never cease.”

“Uh- Thanks for not doing the inches from my face, manic grin thing today.”

“You seemed tired. Didn’t even make it to bedclothes last night.” He chuckled.

 “I stayed out fairly late, took Gwaine home, then dream walked a bunch of druids. It’s easier than trying to trace them all separately for visits and run messages.”

  
“If you say so, Emrys.”

He groaned, “People have to stop calling me that.”

“Merlin, we could you Squishy, or Twinkletoes, Legion, or Mop-face, and it wouldn’t change _who_ or _what_ you are a whit. Personally I would prefer Emrys, but if you’d rather we come up something else I’m sure it could be done…”

“Fine. Emrys is… fine. Please, _please_ don’t start calling me Twinkletoes, and for the love of the gods don’t try ‘darling’, I refuse to be Uthered.”

“What about ‘sweetheart’”

“Shut up.”

“Honey?” Lachlan was grinning wickedly at him.

“No really, shut up, or I _will_ find a way to prevent _you_ specifically from this room.”

“Why haven’t you got dressed yet.”

“For g- because you are watching, you creepy bastard.”

“You didn’t mind Eileen.”

“I’m roasting the next person to suggest it.” Merlin glared.

“I don’t think that would work on me. Anyway, you’ve got work.” He turned around and kept talking. “When do you want a report about the vaults?”

 “When you have useful information. Deathtrap location would also be useful. I can draw up a map or diagram. It needs organised eventually, but at least this way we’ll know if anything world-ending is stolen.” Merlin wasn’t particularly keen to make himself more work, but it _was_ something that would make their lives easier.

“True.”

“Lachlan?” Merlin's voice lost some of it's assurance.

“Hmm?”

“Is Morgause really Morgana’s sister?”

 “Well, she thinks so. Morgana’s father is Uther, her mother Vivian, but she and Gorlois were both on second marriages. I can’t exactly remember the dates. She was irritating. Seers often were. They would argue with dragons, often having got one very _specific_ human angle of greater events, none of the context. The dragons were far more reliable and balanced.  Then _we_ had to calm both down. Vivian was a beautiful woman. Beautiful, but cold. Between _your_ two families there had been a rivalry for centuries. The one line being angry that they couldn’t control dragons and convinced of their innate right by sharing a tiny fraction of sight, the other standing in the way and trying to maintain the peace. After the time one attempted to _force_ it and did so much damage the dragons withdrew from being involved with human affairs altogether. Both dragon and Seer had to be ‘given mercy’.

Vivian’s family didn’t respect the dragons as _people_ , sentient, regarded them as mere beasts that should be subjugated and used against their nature as weapons. Tools.” Lachlan couldn’t disguise the revulsion and rage that inspired.

“They saw nothing wrong with torturing creatures of the old religion. Morgana’s family worked with Uther to trap the Dragonlords, using the seers as bait; who we still felt a responsibility to for the way normal humans often tried to _use_ and abuse their gift. _Her_ kin stepped in willingly, offered the chance to bend one of the creatures to their own will. Traitors. What they did… I fear they will _not_ be welcomed in Avalon.”

“Gods, well no wonder Kilgarrah wasn’t optimistic about Morgana’s chances.”

 

Lachlan rolled his eyes. “ _Her_ destiny was prophesied centuries ago, and not by him. Hell, her own ancestor verified it. Not that that has helped them on the straight and narrow, but there really was nothing you could do to ‘save’ her.  She didn’t _want_ to be saved, especially by a _man_ , rebelled at the very thought.  She wanted power and agency of her own. Once she _had_ it she wanted to force others to agree with and obey her.  You can’t change the core of a person who is angry and doesn’t _want_ to change Merlin. Arthur may have been selfish, but at his core always cared deeply about the welfare of his people _more_ than he cared about what happened to _him._ His outward behaviours have changed, but the components that he values; mercy, justice, valour,  were always present; he simply interprets their appropriate exercising differently and has grown into the responsibilities placed on him. There were many forks in the road that could have gone disastrously wrong, we have been fortunate, despite all of the pain.”

Merlin, now ready, sat to pull on his boots. “You and I are going to have to find a time to sit down properly again, I’m bringing nicked posh wine. That’s been very _useful_ though, and I suspect there is another long day ahead of me. I’ve work to do, deliveries to make, and,” he sighed, “An old man to try and listen to.”

  
“Good luck Merlin. Don’t forget your keys Emrys.”

As the ghost walked through the door Merlin tried to take steadying breaths. He hadn’t come to an isolated kingdom alone in the landscape at all, or into a simple home.

He’d walked into a blood feud, an ancient fight, with the Pendragons in the middle of it, and he and Arthur as the point everything turned on. Fucking hell, they were just _trying_ to make it harder now. Unlocking his door and honestly appreciating the reminder to take the keys with him Merlin crossed the threshold, adding the required smile as he locked it behind him and clattered down the stairs to Gaius chambers. He knocked lightly to alert the man to his presence and entered. It wasn’t his home anymore but he couldn’t bring himself to wait for the old man to come and let him in.

Gaius had placed two bowls of weak porridge out, optimistic of him, thought Merlin, but he _had_ been unambiguous with his intent to speak to the physician this morning. With a twinge of guilt in his gut, but far too much at risk right now Merlin tested it for any poison or corruption, relieved to find none.

 

Gaius sat down across from him, silent and every day of his eighty years showing on his face.

“Are you going to speak to me?” He sounded weary, as though he hadn’t slept.

“I was waiting for you to begin Gaius, every time I think we can’t add more complications they slip out of the cracks.”

The old physician nodded. “They will. Camelot is old. _Very old._ It was never built to be fought over by petty little kings. That is relevant to _you_ but won’t help the situation with Arthur.”

The old man sipped his tea, “Merlin, Why do you think there was a cavern under the castle large enough to accommodate and trap a huge, thousand year old dragon?”

Merlin frowned, he’d never really thought about it before, although he supposed it probably was rather unwise to build an extremely heavy citadel over a hollowed cave system.

“I don’t know. High ground that’s close to a river?”

“Both necessary elements, but no. There are many such places. Why here _exactly.”_

The warlock was silent as he considered it from _his_ perspective, not trying to imagine a king’s concern.

“Because the cavern was large enough to shelter dragons. The ledge and stalagmites. They _expected_ dragons and anticipated needing to speak to them.”

“Exactly. The city was built around the hill because of the cavern. It could hardly have been added afterwards- at least not safely. It was a nest, aeons ago, shelter. Warm. Tell  me Merlin, who would _choose_ to settle in a place where dragons chose to roost, or require a space to speak in private counsel with them? Most see the gaping maw and run in terror from a simple yawn.” Gaius eyebrows rose as he looked steadily at the young man before him.

“No. No Gaius. They can’t be. I think I need to go back to sleep, start over, and see if the day makes more sense.”

“Your conclusion was correct m’b- Merlin. Camelot was _built_ by you ancestors, by the dragonlords long ago. Much longer than _Uther_ realises. There is magic in the very _foundations_ of this city.

He blames Sigan for any ‘corruption’ he sees, but the truth is far more complicated.”

Merlin snorted, “Isn’t it always.”

“Camelot is… _special_. The magic of the dragons over the centuries seeped into the rock itself, the city in some ways protects itself, and it’s master. You, Merlin, are the natural Master, Emrys woke all of the sleeping magic, that attracts other creatures of the old religion. For the first time though, it’s master serves someone else. _You_ serve Arthur Pendragon, the other side of the coin, and so the Citadel answers to him first. That does not hold true for the land of Albion. He is the People’s King. The land and it’s creatures will always answer first to you. You unite magic. He unites the Peoples both with and without.

Igraine was a wonderful woman, beloved by her people, and by Uther; but as noblewomen usually are she was also a pawn in a very long game. Uther won Camelot from it’s previous corrupt king in battle. A victory that would never have been possible without magic at his side. He needed someone that the common-folk and nobles alike would accept, _and_ he misunderstood the nature of how dragonlords work. He won the kingdom but he could command neither the city, nor the beasts; Igraine was perfect, and she had the blood of dragonkin flowing in her veins. It would settle arguments, unite factions, and publicly acknowledge their role and ours. Uther _believed_ it would also provide him the dragonlord son he could use to control them. Her brother explained, more than once, how that wasn’t how it worked, or how the ability was passed on, but Uther was too obstinate to listen.

In the end Balinor gave up and stormed out muttering about fools wilfully misunderstanding.  If Uther had ever suspected any link between you and Balinor it would not have gone well for you, especially with the great dragon under the castle, he would have sought a way to control you Merlin, and he would have found it.  He looks away from Arthur because he sees Igraine’s face. He looks away from yours because it causes him to feel fear which he cannot understand. The magic protects you from his comprehension.

You may be right that I should have told you about him, _and him_ of your existence, but if I had sent you to Balinor, Arthur would have followed, and you would likely not have returned alive. If the king had realised your connection _at all_ he would have sought out your mother. At the time of your birth congress with a dragonlord was a crime in Camelot. I couldn’t risk her again.”

“I wasn’t born in Camelot.” Merlin scowled.

Giving Merlin the eyebrow Gaius continued, “No, it’s where your mother was a free woman though, and where her marriage was, and he doesn’t care about technicalities now, it would never matter what anyone offered in testimony.”

Merlin examined his uncle’s face critically; “Would you stand for her?”

Gaius tapped the edge of his cup and caught Merlin’s eye, “She asked me to protect you.”

The warlock didn’t back down, “Would you stand in court and defend my mother?”

“If I believed it would not result in your death I would defend my sister in a heartbeat. If I put you knowingly at risk, she’d come back through the veil to kill me herself.”

“That is not a ‘yes’ Gaius.”

“I went to the Isle of the Blessed and took Nimue’s deal to save her. Does that count as one?”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, acknowledging that yes, technically Gaius _had_ sacrificed his own life for Hunith’s then.

“I suppose.”

Gaius knew it was the best he could hope for at this point so continued, “Queen Igraine was your aunt, and _she_ made the deal with Nimue, brokered through me. She knew what the cost was, a life for a life. She just didn’t expect it to be hers. I suspect that it may have been a contributing factor in the result, that she was content to barter someone else’s life. She had her reasons. Igraine had been unable to conceive for years, and the king began to consider other solutions to his lack of an heir- including all of the magical ones, insisting that she was deliberately choosing to withhold a male heir from him, claiming her avoidance of them as proof of that. After finding him with a maid she argued angrily with Uther and blamed _him_ for the problem. Uther was furious, decided to prove a point, and went to her closest friends. Two turned him away- one your mother, two did not- including the Lady of Cornwall. He came back to her repentant, but I suspect now that the reason was Morgana, confirming in _his_ mind that it was Igraine who was defective. It may have been what pushed her to finally choose a life for a life.

Your father did not take his sister’s hurt well and as he led the dragonlords it engendered an enmity between them, long before the Purge began. As young as he was, Balinor didn’t realise the consequences of rejecting the treaty renewal with Camelot as he had restrained himself from taking any more violent action.

When Arthur was born and Igraine died Uther turned completely against magic. Igraine was dead, and so his son should have been the key to the whole land as the power is passed on upon the parents death, yes? Uther was sure he could become the Pendragon who controlled it _all_ with the child of dragons. He decided she must have managed to pass the power to the closest living male when it became clear her child would cost her life. A punishment for him, to steal what he believed should have been his, and with it the assured legitimacy of his kingship.

If anyone were to recall Uther’s betrayals of Igraine it could raise questions, and they would have led back to a possible challenger, he had to get rid of any such supporters. He certainly did love her deeply, he just loved power more; Igraine did not, she loved the _people_ and they knew it. To allow her memory to be immortalised as pure was the only way the common folk and nobles would believe he had nothing to do with her death or caused it with his forceful demands for a son. After all, at least a basic understanding of the Old religion was common then. Many must have at least _suspected_ when Uther blamed magic. You were right, death in childbirth or the weeks after is extremely common. Without the purge it would have been assumed by all as a natural tragedy.

Most of us were in shock as the Queen had been very involved in the everyday running of the kingdom, Uther refused to hear her name, almost in denial at first. It was her _brother_ who forced him to allow proper treatment of her body, using a dragon to intimidate Uther into cooperation.

When Arthur was born he had the look of his mother and Uther wouldn’t see him, left him to a nurse and stayed away so long the child didn’t settle or recognise him when he did visit. Balinor came to see his nephew, and soothed the boy to sleep, told him stories of what his mother had been like in the nursery. It took only days in the castle for him understand Uther’s intent for the priestesses who supported Nimue, he tried to warn them, but Nimue was not disposed to listen to men at that time. She thought I knew beforehand what would happen.

He’d gone to challenge the king on his neglect of the baby prince. The cost had been so dear to them all, and to him personally, that this fragile life ought to reflect holding the same value, to kill his sister for a son and abandon him was unacceptable. Balinor demanded that either Uther care for his son, or _he_ would care for his sister’s child until he was old enough to choose.”

Gaius shook his head. “I intervened, I never should have. Given the chance again I’d allow the man to take the prince from the castle that child into exile. They’d have trained him as well as any knight and it was considered an honour being conferred to have them visit your court so he’d have been exposed widely enough, and acknowledged as Igraine’s son by their side, Hunith would have mothered him as much as she did any child. The one problem with that of course being that you may never have been born, though I suspect you’d simply have met sooner. It should have gone differently, though the dragons and their Lords would still have died, Uther drew them into a trap, aided by another family who held a very long standing feud with your own.”

“Morgana’s.” stated Merlin with certainty.

The old man nodded gravely, “Indeed. Morgana’s. For a chance at the power held by the dragonlords, they would see them killed.”

“We don’t burn, Gaius.” Merlin held his gaze.

“I won’t ask how you know that. No; but you _can_ be trapped with magic inhibiting cuffs that have been forged with _dark_ magic and handed to men like Aredian. The knights and court were told the Prince had been threatened and a failed attempt at kidnapping took place. We didn’t realise Uther had already authorised death squads to scour the forests. Arthur may not have known how to kill a dragon Merlin, but back then Uther very definitely did. He lured them and panicked them using the Lords. He keeps- kept- the great dragon not only as a trophy but as a means of control of Balinor _just in case_ he wasn’t dead. He never saw the body and is a paranoid man. Killing the last dragon would mean any dragonlord had nothing left to lose.

Men with nothing to lose are dangerous, and Balinor was dangerous to him long before the death of the dragons.

Whatever I had done that day the massacre would still have happened, with a different excuse. Uther was resolved by then to end magic.

Nimue and the priestesses were late arriving, but he was prepared, they would feel any major change in magic, so he knew once he began his cleansing he was certain they would appear. It was taken into account. He had taken their children to ensure obedience. No one thought it strange that they’d have a feast, with Morgana’s family visiting it would be a huge insult not to, and they had close ties to the priestesshood, for good reason too. It wasn’t unusual, but it gave them the means to control most of the more experienced women, and as power runs in families even those without children were… They went willingly and we had no idea what was to commence, most people with magic aren’t like you Merlin. Alone they couldn’t escape. The city had just been completely shaken by the end of the dragons. It was the biggest pyre I’d ever seen, and the memory is indescribable. The stench of burned hair and- well you know well enough, it was inescapable, everyone was numb.

Morgana’s family were angry, they’d planned to take the dragons themselves, which even Uther knew was crazy, Uther added a few of _their_ children to the temporary ‘shelter’ when they rebelled, one even drawing a dagger on him. I was responsible for so many things, and ashamed, but still bound to Uther by an oath of the Old religion, as many were. You know those cannot be broken lightly.

Hunith is my little sister, I couldn’t let her husband die, or remain in chains. The dragonlords were not given _clean deaths_. It was only that which gave me time to get him out, and I believe it’s why he kept running to leave a trail that led away from you. In return he smuggled one of the children out, getting Morgause to Nimue, the only one with a chance to protect her. The Lady of Cornwall was generous with her favours Merlin, and she knew well her husband's indiscretions- though there is _no_ chance he left any children in his wake.

He cared for her, but preferred the company of men, he knew Morgana was never his, though _she_ didn’t, and he knew Morgause wasn’t either. Their Mother never did allow the fathers to act in their children’s interest. If she’d realised I did it I wouldn’t have had to fear the pyre, that woman would have eviscerated me for breaking the rules.”

Merlin rested his head in his hands. “Oh gods, Morgause..”

“Your other cousin.”

Rolling his eyes, Merlin groaned, “You lot just can’t be trusted to be responsible, can you?”

Gaius shook his head, unhearing, “I couldn’t keep her, her other family had committed to a suicidal course, and she had natural magic. Nimue used to like teaching, and girls left to live at the Blessed isle with the priestesses, albeit usually a little older. Your mother made choices herself, it’s easy in hindsight to criticise, but you’ve made some of your own bad choices.”

The candles flared but Merlin controlled his breathing, “Most of which could have been bloody avoided by knowing basic stuff, and if you think _Nimue_ didn’t recognise you in _her_ you’re a fool.”

Gaius frowned, “I know. She wasn’t always bitter and vengeful though. I should have understood Morgana and Uther’s dynamic before. He let her away with things no one else could suggest, though there were limits. Looked proud when she stood her ground and challenged him or demanded the respect of others. She could disagree openly, unlike Arthur, who would _never_ be permitted to openly challenge the king, but she must _always_ obey. Once an _order_ was given she _would_ obey.  If she refused there were punishments. The so disapproved _of_ bond with Gwen was tolerated only because he could use it as a tool of control. Guinevere did not fully understand what Morgana endured to keep her only friend. It is unusual for such a woman to remain unwed so late, but there were no suitors who had particular support from Arthur. I stayed far away from questioning any of it.

Uther has used your own bond with Arthur to similar effect. It may not have been the first night Arthur spent in the cells, but it was the first time he acted for a servant knowing well where it would land him.  
Uther has been a king less cruel than some of those neighbouring. For those lucky enough to be born _without_ gifts- a large majority even before the purge, he is far better than one like Cedric; who would by now have enslaved you, Kilgarrah, and torched Ealdor for not giving you to him as a child. It does not change my belief that he is an awful father, I cleaned and stitched more wounds than those that scarred on the Prince growing up, he never complained at those times and I never pushed.”

Gaius sighed in regret,  “Not that I could ever _tell_ them that, or really even agree with their reactions, but I couldn't leave him alone with that, _or_ remove them from it. Then Morgana began having visions and I had to stay to make sure no replacement outed her to the king. I honestly don’t know what he would have done.

Uther became so _erratic_ , it was like seeing someone after a severe head injury who changes, reports would be made and his reaction would not be the same as the week before, and if it mentioned magic he demanded the village be razed, the contamination ‘purged’.

Many of the sacred places were desecrated. Springs poisoned with the blood of children. Everyone turned inward, trying to protect those closest to them, at the expense of others often.

 The court changed so much. All with a history of magic use had their titles stripped and lands confiscated, no one dared challenge him on it because he’d shown the extremes he was capable of, they knew that mercy would not be shown and wished to deflect attention. Many went into exile, those who didn’t would ‘disappear’. It is illegal to mark a sorcerers grave Merlin, it is not permitted because if it was seen it would be _real_ and they would be remembered as humans. We mark the graves only of _people_. Uther introduced new distinctions to break the connection; magic-users, sorcerers, and ‘my people’, ‘the good people of Camelot. The name of those who bring them in or accuse are mentioned. Rarely the names of the accused. Seemingly minor laws that add up and make it impossible for a magic user to even pass through this land safely.

Dehumanising is key Merlin. Make us human again. I will take you to the places that should be marked by cairns. Perhaps before I die I can regain some of my humanity, even if my soul is beyond redemption.” Gaius drank deeply, Merlin had given up on managing anything, feeling too sick to attempt it.

 Pressing his lips tightly together Gaius seemed to try and gauge how best to continue.

“He stabilised around ten years after it began, with only specific triggers reawakening the brutality and rage.”

“Gaius, he had you _tortured._ ” Merlin sounded appalled, despite his anger towards Gaius he still hadn’t forgiven Uther for _that_ , or for allowing him to interrogate Morgana and himself. Morgana had done _nothing_ and he was willing to throw her to a wolf.

“Yes he did Merlin.”

“Why did you stay?” He really was curious about that. It seemed irrational.

Gaius sighed, “I am an old man Merlin, my whole life has been here, tell me, where would I go?”

“Well, mum would always be glad…” His voice faded out as he realised the dangers of that.

His mentor raised his eyebrows. “And then if someone came or called me they might discover Hunith, or Uther could remember the name of ‘Ealdor’ where he pursued a certain dragonlord you resemble. There is nowhere Merlin. Too many of my friends died here, so will I. Hopefully not until you know all I do, or another is trained, but no, I won’t be retiring to the country, Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t have to ask to know that was a confession to knowing that he was living now on borrowed time.

“I’ll try and make it peaceful, however things lie between us should the time come.”

“Thank you.” Gaius replied calmly.

“Don’t thank me. Why didn’t you teach me about the Old religion, or tell me what killing Nimue _meant_. I abandoned people I didn’t even realise I bore a responsibility to. You just let them continue to fight over something I didn’t _want_ and they _can’t_ wield. What were you thinking? Did it just not matter as long as they weren’t in front of you?

“At the time you were far too inexperienced and vulnerable. Easily manipulated and naive. Think Merlin, Nimue tricked you easily just by wearing a pretty face and trailing a little power.”

  
Merlin snorted, running a hair through already mussed hair, “Yeah, and I had no idea priestesses still existed, or there was a _grudge_ and deal made twenty odd years ago. Or what the sensation of being watched meant, because no one explained scrying was a thing until it was too late. If you couldn’t have told me beforehand you should at have said something _after_ I murdered the woman. What happens to the Blessed Isle if it’s neglected Gaius, and abandoned? Hell, maybe I could have stopped what happened to Morgause after I murdered her guardian if I knew she existed. Arthur wouldn’t have been trapped and manipulated into holding a sword to his father’s throat- oh, you didn’t know that, I forgot, well he was, and I had to use _more lies_ to end it. He went from being ready to listen to convicted of magic being evil that day. Again. I want you to tell him. About the deal, about Nimue, and Igraine’s death. He _needs_ to know.”  
Gaius shook his head, frustration showing through,“I’m bound by an Oath, Merlin.”

The younger man distantly heard thunder rolling.

“Does Geoffrey know?” Gaius managed to force a nod of confirmation.

“Right. Good. Do you know what is in the vaults?” Gaius looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“You must be joking. Do you or do you not?”

“Some of it. There are a great of things that were never seen or processed, and a huge collection before. The dragon guard wasn’t for minor things though.”

“I doubt anyone could persuade them to that.”

“There is one who might.” Gaius’s eyebrows rose pointedly.

“Yes, well, I’m not about to put _any_ dragon through that kind of pain and trauma. Emrys or not, I’m not deliberately pissing off the dragons either, I _like_ flying.”

“There are other ways to fly Merlin.”  
“Not like this there aren’t.” His eyes glazed in memory.

“You look like your father when you speak of them that way. He’d be proud of you.”

“When he died he believed I was going to slay Kilgarrah.”

“No Merlin, when he died he trusted you to do the right thing with knowledge he gave you.”

“I wish you had done the same. Maybe he’d have taught me more about them than how to kill.”

Both sat quietly, lost in thought.

“If Emrys is supposed to be half of the saviour coin, why does Morgana believe she is doing that? Why was she encouraged to see it as _her_ destiny?”

“Seeing is a difficult burden to bear Merlin, and shows only one side. When the visions of death began to come to her, Morgana would never have ordered it. I believe she initially tried to prevent her visions and brought them to fruition. Morgause saw an opportunity. As for the Old religion, there must be a balance. To tell you more would be dangerous because of who you are, but the Witch is not Emrys, and her destiny is not… it is dark.”

“Darkness to my light. She walks in the shade." Merlin paused, eyes widening,  "It isn’t light and darkness, The meaning is not what I thought. Thank you Gaius. I need to think.” He pushed away from the table looking around.

“Indeed. Before you wouldn’t have stopped to, you didn’t have the necessary understanding of how magic works in this world to succeed.”

 Merlin spread his hands in frustration, “I still _don’t_ Gaius. There are things happening around us that I _should_ have been prepared for, and a mad king in the castle- who apparently has been unstable for a _very_ long time-  whose son is trying to work out what the hell mess he’s being left in while rebuilding a bloody city and preparing for the return of an angry vengeful witch. Who happens to be his half sister.

If you want to save your home, or your city, or your family, or fucking _anything_ this is the last chance you will _ever_ have. You’re not my first difficult conversation this morning so I have to go do deliveries, otherwise I think something bad will happen. I really can’t take more information  right now, but if you want to restore anything with the Crown Prince I suggest you grovel. Hard. He was talking about old men and cells last night, but so far has actually _done_ anything that would be awkward to explain to the council.”

 

Gaius nodded thoughtfully. “I need to consider things carefully as well Merlin, would you send Sir Gwaine down later, I think I may need to discuss something with him; what did you mean by not your first conversation? It’s barely light.”

Merlin tilted his head, usually the pair tried to avoid each other. “I’ll ask him. I’m not going to press it, if it’s important enough you’ll find him. Oh, and I see ghosts now. See you later with the willow bark, elderflower and chamomile we’re low on. Bye Gaius”

Merlin sauntered off feeling like the only stopping him from spinning outwards was the cheery smile. It had seemed like such a good day until he woke too.

 

First round done, Merlin grabbed Arthur’s breakfast and something for himself from the smiling young woman. He should learn her name he thought.

Slipping into the room he placed the tray on the table and without attempting speech drew open the heavy drapes, tying them back.

“Rise and shine Arthur, in two minutes I will drag that quilt from you no matter _how_ cold you claim it makes you.”

“I thought you were supposed to come in in a good mood today.”  
“I was. Then I spoke to two old men, and now nothing makes sense, or possibly a great deal makes sense, it’s hard to tell;  and I hate everything, but it doesn’t stop the sun shining upon the marsh of misery, _or prats_. I think day drinking could catch on. Be a thing.”

“You’re spending too much time with Gwaine.” Came the Prat’s gravelly morning tones, “Wait until I’ve eaten. Not. A. Word. Until after breakfast...” Arthur slowly processed his servant’s slightly wired wake up call. “ _Could you?”_

“Could I what?” Merlin looked up in confusion.

“Stop the sun shining.”  
Merlin shrugged, “Well...yeah, I guess… but why?”

Arthur tried not to look unsettled by that statement and failed.

“Arthur, I haven’t done something like that without life or death cause since I was eight years old. My mum damn near tanned my hide when she realised what I’d done.”

“Except with lightning.”

“Uhm. Except storms when I am grieving. Or maybe very, very angry.”

“Merlin I know I call you a girl, and honestly it’s because half the time you _are_ a girl, but I’d really rather you _talked_ about your feelings than drowned us all. Not to me, not _ever_ to me, but maybe someone less- well _me._ Guinivere maybe, Guinivere knows about _feelings_.”

“Shut up Arthur.”

  
“It’s treason to say that.”

  
“It’s treason for me to breathe Arthur, if you’re going to kill me, make it for something _noticeable._ Dramatic. I could do unnatural storms, summon a dragon or take up unicorn riding. Turn the rain to ale, Gwaine would _like_ that.” Merlin was pacing, rather wild eyed as he ranted.

“That bad?” 

Merlin glowered, “Worse.” His expression cleared completely, “So sire, would you prefer to start with the good news, or bad.”

Arthur considered Merlin’s overall mood. “Good. At least I can briefly enjoy _that.”_ _  
_ _“Well then_ , we know which weapons I need, the concise answer is _all of them_ except for bow and a quiver of arrows. Long knives, curved blade, ritual knife, silent darts for poisoning, and magical armour, but the Catha _will_ answer to me. The druids are calling a High Council, and will tell me when and where to be. Don’t have me followed this time. Lachlan- that’s the bearded ghost- has agreed to map out the vaults for me, with deadly trap placement.”

“That’s fantastic. I don’t have a curved sword or such, but long and short knives are simple. What’s the bad news?”

“The history here is more complex than I thought, and the atrocities were more significant than I can measure yet. You and I are supposed to fix something that is much bigger than a genocide. There’s too much to process. Blood feuds, histories, prophecies, identities, all twisted up. Just- I feel trapped. If we fail, everything does. Not just a battle, it _all_ hinges on us, and possibly Morgana- I don’t understand her role yet. You know this room used to feel homey, it’s stupid, you would throw cups and threaten me with stocks all the time. Today the whole castle just seems oppressive.”

“Well _that_ I can help with, and anytime you want me to throw cups I am more than willing to oblige, it’s just less satisfying when you catch them and smirk. Prepare the horses for going out after training.”

Merlin smiled at the familiar tone of command. “Yes Arthur.”  
They _would_ do this, because it was _them_.


	32. Pixie kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intermission.

It was all going so well, Arthur should have expected something like this.

He had been with the round table when a report came in of a huge monster.

Merlin and Gwaine had exchanged alarmed glances when they heard  _ where _ it was, only breathing freely when ‘fur’ was mentioned.

“What was it doing?”

The man looked at Arthur as though he was being unreasonable by asking. “What you'd expect it to.”

“Please be clear. I won't send my men against something without  _ some _ idea of what we face.”

“It's just like a normal cat my Lord, but giant.”

Arthur felt a headache building. “And when you say ‘giant’?...”

“Filling most of the field, sire.”

“Has it threatened anyone? Eaten anyone? Performed any horrifying monstrous feats?”

“Well, no sire. Other than growl when someone poked it.”

“You may leave, that has been very helpful, I will send the knights to deal with the threat. Until then stay well away from the beast, and try not to look too appetising.”

The peasant, no less confused than before was led from the hall, towards the food hall. 

 

“Merlin, as the best trained in these cases, does a giant cat match anything from the bestiary?”

He had no helpful answer, “No sire.”

“Are there any  _ other  _ likely explanations for a cat the size of a field in the vicinity of Camelot.”

“Only two spring immediately to mind sire.”

“Elaborate.” Arthur forced out.

“Well, the most likely, with it being full feline and no different parts or chimera features, would be that initially it was a normal sized cat. If anyone is missing their house cat or mouser, have them check the markings for a match.” Merlin shrugged. 

“Or?”

“The other option requires something outlawed to resolve the problem and so it cannot be that.”

“Oh god. It must be Thursday.”

Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, idiot, stay. The rest of you are released to other duties. As they filed from the hall Arthur tried not to glare. 

Gritting his teeth he turned to Merlin and Gwaine. “Is there any chance this could have something to do with either of you? At all.”

Merlin looked offended, “What would be gained by turning a poor wee fluffy kitten into a field sized….” the colour drained from his face. “I have to go.”

“I should go too, in case we need a thing.” added Gwaine as he moved to follow.

“Oh no you don't.” Arthur voice halted them both in their tracks.

“Lancelot, organise horses. We're going for a ride.”

Merlin gulped, his king did not look happy. 

“When you went out last night, Merlin, was there by any chance ale or mead consumed?”

“Not by me, Arthur.”

He nodded, looking pained. 

“Then why the hurry to leave?”

“Because I sarcastically told a friend that he was _ almost _ as comforting as a fluffy kitten, OK? I wouldn't rule it out for him to do that but I would have felt it so this is different and not him, it’s also very much not his style.”

“That’s not a reason.”

Merlin looked at the prat as if he was being intentionally dim, “Even sweet kittens get hungry, clotpole. Did  _ you _ notice him mention any giant mice?”

Arthur groaned, “Good point. Armoury, fast.”

“Um, Arthur, if this is either of the things I think it is, then you are all going to have to turn around, or be very distracted while I fix it illegally, before any livestock or peasants go missing.”

“I’ll live with it. You may not want to if it’s going to be a very noticeable performance.”

“More noticeable than a giant kitten?” Merlin scoffed.

“Shut up Merlin.”

 

Gwaine managed to keep his amusement under control for most of the journey, until they were close. Leon looked puzzled at the scarred trees and their mounts began to exhibit signs of nervousness. “Merlin, secure them and follow me.” The other three did so without direction, though Arthur was beginning to think, by the wide smile on Gwaine’s face that he may not be the  _ best _ choice for taming of fighting such a beast.

“Gwaine,  _ try  _ to remember you are a dignified defender of Camelot”,

“Yes Princess, but you can’t tell me it isn’t cute, especially confused when it’s catching its own tail like that. Does it  _ look _ like a monster to you?” 

“Never trust the cute ones Gwaine, or the pretty ones.” Came Merlin’s voice.

“That from personal experience mate?”

“Very.” came a flat response.

“I’ll do my best.”

 

“Well, can you tell from here or do you need to get closer?”

“Closer I think.”

Merlin was about to declare it generally safe when he nearly knocked into his pixie friend. Not friend exactly. Non-enemy?

“Ah, My Lord Emrys”, the sparkling creature smiled warmly and bowed, as Gwaine tried to control hysterical laughter.  Arthur looked on in horror, and Lancelot tried desperately to think of some less awful excuses than Merlin’s would undoubtedly be. 

“I saw you last night with your friend, and since you seemed not to wish to visit we had been trying to think of what type of gift might be fitting, when you mentioned the comfort creature.”

The poor pixie looked so proud of himself that it made Merlin feel guilty to have to try and reverse the situation, but he could just  _ feel _ Arthur’s eyes boring holes in him. “Um, the thing is , while he’s an amazing creature, and I’m honoured by the- ah- thought that you put into this, there isn’t really room in the castle for such a  _ big _ cat to roam, I’d hate to have him unhappy. Did he belong to someone before?”

The pixie looked offended, “Steal? For Lord Emrys? Certainly not! This is Ceasar. He is from a noble line of cats. We haven’t really told them about the empire breaking up, it was difficult enough after Egypts decline. I figured if we just don’t tell them, perhaps they won’t notice.”

Merlin nodded, “No, sure, I guess that makes sense, but  _ why?” _

“You did not accept our invitation, this was a fitting tribute in its place.” Merlin nodded and called over his shoulder “Arthur, I need help to translate something.”

“Well that makes a change, what this time, idiot?”

“You cannot call My Lord an idiot!”

“ _ I  _ can if he is being one. Merlin? Explain.”

“Apparently the cat is mine, and they haven’t told him about Rome, because Egypt was complicated, which is fine; but then there was a bit where he mentioned ‘tribute’ because I didn’t go to dinner, and that’s why there’s a giant kitten.”

 

Arthur looked between his idiot servant-warlock, and the sparkly pixie, and the giant, bouncy kitten trying to catch a falcon. He wished it luck. “Merlin, accept the invitation, Lord Sparkles, or whatever your name is, Lord Emrys would be  _ delighted _ to join you for a diplomatic meeting and feast. Please relay details of any times or rendezvous points to Prince Arthur of Camelot, who will ensure the idiot- I mean  _ Emrys _ remembers to be there on time. Now, is there any chance you can shrink this  _ delightful  _ beast to the size of a normal one so that it may torment- oops,  _ amuse _ Lord Emrys in his home?”

“You are the other side of his coin?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, if it would make them listen though… “Apparently so.”

“Then yes, I shall be glad to convey such a message to our court, and Caesar should be no problem to shrink to a more convenient size if this is inappropriate, I simply assumed after last night-” 

“No, normal sized is fantastic, brilliant, easier to travel with too. Is it just a standard shrinking spell for a living animal?”

“Yes my Lord.”

Merlin winced awkwardly, muttering to his friend, “Arthur, can anybody still staring look at something else  _ very hard _ for a minute please?”

Arthur sighed, silently acknowledging the wisdom in not  _ openly _ demanding Merlin use magic at that moment.

“Leon, go and check the perimeter for… giant mice. Just in case.”

The first knight smirked, “Yes sire.”

 

“Lancelot, firewood, we need some, possibly lots. Right away.”   
“Of course sire, I think the opposite direction would be a good place to start.”

 

The prince held out a hand; “Gwaine. Shut up, touch nothing.”

“Wasn’t going to Princess.”

His servant-warlock smiled in relief. Lance might  _ know _ but it was different. “Thanks Arthur.”

Merlin stretched out one hand and softly chanted over the terrifying beast as it shrank back to an acceptable scale. “Merlin, you now acknowledge the tribute from your people or...whatever they are… and thank them for contributing.” Arthur hissed.

“But Arthur, I know how hard that is for folk.”

“Yes, and this is voluntarily offered in good faith, so graciously thank him for the bloody cat.”

This was one of the times it was simplest to go along with Arthur’s suggestion. 

So by the time Leon finished his very thorough search for giant mice- which he extended to also cover rats and voles, Merlin  _ had _ profusely thanked the pixie for their generous offer of a giant, noble kitten, and agreed to attend a feast with them. Which he suspected may involve shrinking himself for practical reasons. He had also wheedled an invitation for the Once and future king in case of any further translation issues, to avoid more incidents with nature offerings. 

Caesar was quite delighted with the whole thing, and while travelling by horse was definitely  _ not  _  something he would recommend, the easy availability of prey in the castle, and abundance of humans to command was very pleasing.


	33. Chapter 33

 

When Arthur had asked Geoffrey about blood feuds his answer had been ‘which one’, and whilst the Prince had known it was unlikely to be simple he hadn't liked it any more.

“The ones that are relevant to the Pendragons and Camelot.”

The repetition of “Which ones.” was not encouraging. The archivist had at last taken pity on him and explained those between Merlin’s House and his, and Morgana’s with everyone.

It was not a pleasant conversation. Nor was realising that he and Merlin were cousins through Igraine and Balinor.

Knowing about the rivalry between Morgana’s family and Merlin’s- thus also _his_  by extension would have been useful, and the resentment of Gaius would certainly have fed Morgana’s ill feeling towards them all. Especially if Nimue had poisoned Morgause against them.

 “Why did you let her suffer that way?” He had asked Geoffrey, and the old man had looked pained as he willed the prince to understand, “She was too much like her mother already. If the king was ignoring the fact that so many of those women had the sight, experienced visions like Morgana’s, I believed it was a _conscious choice_ to overlook it. Raising the issue would either bring pain to _her_ if he could no longer pretend ignorance in the knowledge that it was obvious to others, or I would cause my own death by daring to suggest such a thing occurred within his household. By then he had executed many of those that had been loyal to him once.

Gaius began to give her potions. Even the ones that allowed her to sleep wouldn’t have prevented the visions. Only stifled the disturbances that risked her life. It kept her alive though. Uther wasn’t the _only_ one who knew of the old gifts. This was a place that often intensified such things as the dragons had lived here, guarded it so long. I suspect another place would have brought her greater rest, but she was not permitted to travel, kept tightly under Uther’s gaze… and control.”  He didn’t hide his disapproval of the king’s decision, or priorities, continuing.

“You yourself have been on campaign against Mercia, or away hunting, on quests, but very rarely have you visited other kingdoms to strengthen ties. That is not a common choice, Arthur. What do you think inspired them to bring all such missions regarding you and the then Lady Morgana to _Camelot’s_ court?”

  
The prince frowned, fingers tapping, “I assumed that as father had said, power drew others, lesser kings and Lords. The most powerful was where we met, it’s certainly wise to have a meeting of several important men- and women- well defended. Ours was the most stable in peace years.”

Geoffrey nodded thoughtfully. “That may be so, but it has been a long time indeed, since you visited a foreign court during peacetimes. Long enough to not recognise Gwaine. Uther insisted that business be conducted here. He saw traps and traitors everywhere, and some others agreed not for the good of _Camelot_ or safety abroad, but because they can keep their courts at home however they wish, presenting abroad only what pleases your Father. If the kings of Mercia or Caerleon should take on a court sorcerer for example, or Lot seek to work with Morgause’ supporters, it is far easier to conceal if business is not conducted in their home. Of all the potential matches presented to you over the years, consider how many were brought from a foreign court _to_ your own, without you ever seeing their home. Yes you’ve met knights at tournaments, but that’s _always_ as much for show and restoring the commons’ faith as anything useful.”

He couldn’t deny the truth of that, Cenred had visited Camelot whilst working at home to build up his forces with Morgause, Arthur’s hand formed a fist on the table. “This will take my whole reign to undo, and with it any legacy of the peace we had.”

Geoffrey winced before he spoke, knowing it would sound critical, “Sire, I agree that there have been fewer serious battles during parts of his reign, but what you and others speak of as ‘peace times’ have not been so for those caught up in the genocide. _Far from it._ I believe that you can forge a peace as has not been seen for a long time, but do not make the mistake of thinking _this_ is peace. The smooth looking surface of an ocean. What you have been raised in is an unnatural regime lacking balance, it’s founded on massacres and the murder of children. The records I showed you are what I could save and keep hidden, the vast majority regarding magic _did_ burn, the names of the _missing_ are separate, and the only ones who can reliably help fill in certain gaps of the knowledge are the druids.

They keep no written records and train certain people instead to be keepers of the history, teaching in oral tradition. My own memory is good, but it is not like _that.”_

The prince rolled his eyes, growling in frustration,   _“_ Great, well that’s simple- oh wait, I’ve led hundreds of raids and we’ve been killing them for years. They’ll never agree to meet with me.” Arthur was fed up of things like this.

Geoffrey was unconcerned, ignoring the princes clearly deteriorating mood.

“They will. Get Emrys to arrange it. Trust me, if he demands it there will be a meeting. No weapons.”

Arthur glared at him for stupidity, “They’d still have magic.”  
“Probably. Not a problem Lord Emrys will find tricky.”

Arthur observed the old archivist carefully, hearing the absolute certainty. “You know more about him than he does, don’t you?”

The man paused, looking seriously at Arthur. “I know more about _possibilities_ , and his heritage. Not of the man. You and Merlin know each other better than most _spouses_ ever will, and that’s taking into consideration the fact he held so much of himself back for so long. Prophecies and foretelling is tricky Arthur, it can be a trap if the subject knows about it beforehand. There are simple prophecies, and there are forked prophecies, and there are self fulfilling prophecies. Not all are equal. Merlin knows this, he’s taken out a book on them before-not _of_ them, but for their purpose.”   
Arthur blanched, horrified, _“You lend those?”_ _  
_ The old man snorted and he eyes crinkled in amusement “No, I check the crevices and hidden places when he leaves to see what has gone and what has returned. According to the king prophecy is magic.”

Arthur frowned. “Did Uther just declare anything he didn’t understand to be magic?”

Geoffrey’s lips turned downwards, “In some cases. Like healing. Gaius swore he’d never take another student after the fate of the last one. Merlin was unexpected. To him at least, I never believed he’d properly leave you without a physician.”

“You mean Camelot.”  
The librarian glared at him, “I know exactly what I mean Sire, do not twist my words. Gaius would have left Camelot if he had a choice- even considered breaking his oath despite the cost, but he stayed _willingly_ for you; and Morgana in a way.”

“He failed Morgana.” It angered him more than he wanted to admit now that they were enemies, but in his heart she was still just _Morgana_.

 “You say that now, Arthur, because it’s easy to see, but recall your sister as she was. The passionate arguments she had with Uther. If you had _known_ of her magic, even if you had chosen _not_ to tell him, would you have told her? Or decided not to risk having her scream at him about being unable to see it in his home, or why hasn’t he burned _her_ yet, in anger or the heat of the moment. He was willing to punish you both harshly for far less, or use others to teach you lessons if it didn’t work. Would she have wanted to increase her power? When she was _very_ young she trusted Uther and would have told him anything that two old men told her; and we’d all have been kindling on the next bonfire.” After the twenty year purge Lord Geoffrey could speak perfectly calmly about the prospect of an old friend burning him alive. It was _unsettling._

  
“It might have saved her.” Arthur stated.

 “Yes, or it could have condemned her and Guinivere.” As quickly as he covered the stricken look, Geoffrey had seen; young men could be so predictable. “Surely you don’t think he would have let a girl who concealed it and allowed such things to go on on her watch _go_? That she’d no education on it _at all_ wouldn’t have mattered. She’d have burned either as a witch herself, or been executed for supporting and hiding the practice of witchcraft, as Morgana watched. It’s illegal to cover up even the suspicion of magic, as Gaius and I both did. He chose everyday not to tell _her_ , but he also chose daily not to tell _Uther._ Don’t make the mistake of jumping quickly to conclusions without thought. It’s a necessary skill to survive in battle, and as shown by your father, a deadly flaw in a king.” Geoffrey had never quite agreed with the practice of giving a young girl a companion to act as chaperone and servant between the awkward stage of a nanny and their own maids in waiting. That Uther hadn’t granted Morgana the trappings and responsibility of adulthood had grated on her, she really should have been given her own, instead of being trapped in limbo, and a marriage arranged properly before she fell into darkness.

 

Arthur frowned, folding his arms, “You believe I am not ready.”

The old man shook his head, waving that away, “I believe that you are _capable_ and desire to always do _better_. That you are a perfectionist. You will never feel completely  _ready_. You are a man Arthur. A good man, possibly a great man, but every man has flaws, and it is simple wisdom to be aware of them. When training a knight you do not fail to point out shoddy footwork or where he leaves himself open. You tell him so that he practices and doesn’t make the same mistake in battle, on the day that it matters. Many would spare your ego Arthur, and I might have, if we had more time, but we do not, so unsweetened it must go. If you wish to _understand_ , there are likely to be several things that are difficult to accept. Morgana’s most difficult flaws for exercising authority were her temper, and her unwillingness to ever yield. You suffer from self doubt and the same explosive responses at times. I watched you grow up, and it’s greatly to your credit that you are as balanced as you are, and to Merlin’s. Don’t doubt yourself. Especially when it’s because it isn’t what _your_ father would do, or want. If you try to do it that way Camelot _will_ fall. To save it, you must rule as your own man.”

 “My own, or as Merlin’s puppet?” Arthur didn’t seriously think his servant would use him that way but there were many things he wouldn’t have expected. Asking was better than allowing things to fester for now.

“Don’t be foolish. Sire, if he wanted the power he could have seized it years ago. Or simply not saved you. Or joined with any one of those who have offered to use _him_ over that time. You are not his puppet, or you wouldn’t be questioning it. Listening to advisors is what every good king does. You are not forced against your will or nature by him. Only compelled by your desire to do what is in the best interests of your people; a desire which he conveniently happens to share.”

“And if it’s another act?” Arthur didn’t quite fully prevent the lost feeling from leaking into his tone.

“If you can believe that and work _against_ Emrys then nothing will save this kingdom.” Geoffrey snapped. “You don’t think that though.”

The Prince grimaced, annoyed that he couldn’t, it would make things easier in many ways if he could believe Merlin had an evil plan. Then he might not have to accept that magic didn’t equate to evil. “How long has he been this powerful, so much so you claim he could have chosen to take the kingdom had the fancy struck him.”

Geoffrey stroked his beard, looking at Arthur, “That’s a question you would have to ask _him_ , as are most of the things you seek to discover.”

“So if it was suggested a young child could manipulate weather, that might be possible?”

“If they were as powerful as legend suggests Emrys is, certainly, though the gift is rare.”

The prince nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t familiar enough with magic yet to be able to identify what was serious and what were jokes. Learning would be necessary new skill considering Merlin’s look of confusion as he asked “but why?” as if the the lack of a reason not to stop it was all that held back the force of nature that Arthur was discovering his servant to truly be.

‘But why?’ bothered him far more than he let on.

 

 

Merlin himself burst in to the room full of manic energy that ebbed as he saw the prince, “Ah, Arthur- Um, I was just…”

“Looking for someone? Late?”

“Yes. Those.” He paced, “I need someone neutral. Did you _know_ no one is neutral, Arthur? Hmm?” He turned to Arthur, hands on hips angrily, “There’s only sides and agendas, and opinions, and there’s no one with any bloody balance!”

Arthur looked flatly at his own personal drama queen mid-flounce, “Yes Merlin. Also on state the obvious day, Percival is tall, and the knights like weapons.”

“But Arthur, _no one_. How am I supposed to know who to listen to if they are all…”   
“Human?” The prince raised a wry eyebrow, rather enjoying watching someone else wrestling with one of his least favourite problems.

“At least half of them are clotpoles.”  
“Having met many similar people I might be forced to concede that for once you are right; Geoffrey, theoretically if we _were_ to seek a less biased record and advise, where might that be found?”

Merlin froze, realising he had completely ignored the presence of the old man as Lord Geoffrey shook his head, “Well now, historically that would have been the dragons, and possibly the Druids, but I am afraid in this case the problem continues to be that there _was_ no neutrality. Only guilty and not guilty. In effect there was a civil war style split, where neutrality was considered a betrayal of _both_ sides and meant both would willingly kill you. Excuse me gentlemen but I gather there are matters you must discuss privately.”

Merlin stopped pacing, looking abashed at the archivists calm withdrawal from the room, and Arthur’s raised eyebrows.  “Too much?”  
“No, please, in the Lady’s absence I’ve been missing the rants as someone storms furiously into whichever room I am occupying, glaring at me for not being psychic- although if I was it would be doubly illegal. Do continue the entertainment. Though your reviews won’t be good, you are clearly an amateur at this kind of strop.”

Merlin gaped at Arthur, how dare he liken him to Morgana’s hissy fits. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked coolly at the prince and let thunder rumble in the distance, “Fine, not a _complete_ amateur. What’s the problem Merlin?”

 

The warlock sighed, resting his head against the wood. “I’ve run through all of my options and everyone has vested interests and their own motives. Gaius I can _work_ with, but there is still a hell of a lot to work through, and other things I can’t avoid any more, like him turning in a person I cared for. Telling me he didn’t know why I’m like this when I asked outright. Dangling me in front of Uther despite knowing I could be recognised. Kilgarrah might have been compromised when he was assessing Morgana, given her parentage.  I need to borrow Lord Geoffrey sire, before tomorrow night.

The exhausted prince looked sorrowfully at his warlock, so torn;

“Merlin, I have known the witch most of my life. This… Kilgarrah… if he foresaw her fall, did not lie to you. She has always been stubborn and independent, and our father encouraged the expectation of unwarranted respect. Once she was warm and kind, but she hardened, and it began _long_ before you ever reached the gates. She always wanted to prove that she _could_ do everything, but not always for the right reasons, and she has always been one to hold a grudge. There were many roads to walk here, but I suspect that each of them would have led to her challenging me eventually.”

Merlin met Arthur’s steady gaze, “She has no reason to hold anger towards you Arthur, _I_ have hurt her, but you didn’t.”

Arthur snorted softly, fingers drifting over his sword hilt. “Trust me Merlin, if she had magic then, I hurt her.”

Merlin didn’t argue. It was true. He had watched it, many times, callous words, lives shrugged off, and the prince was a far better man now than he had once been. Wiser. The best of teenage boys tended to be somewhat tactless and princes surrounded by false friends more than most, with the arrogance and pride, Merlin was more than glad he’d been a whole kingdom away from that.

“I have two weeks. The Druid Council will meet under the full moon. I need to find a way to convince them by then.”

Arthur took in the frazzled appearance, dishevelled even for him, and narrowed his eyes.

Grabbing his quill and parchment Arthur quickly scribed a note and sealed it hastily.

“Take this to Lady Guinivere. Merlin, you may be an idiot, but you are an idiot _with_ a plan. You just need to focus and stick to it. Once the meeting is done, you and I, and the others separately, are going to sit down and discuss what has been done. It appears that the secrets of our pasts have a nasty habit of biting us, or our successors, on the arse. Whatever has been done will be pardoned, and I have a great deal to seek forgiveness for myself- though Gwaine must never hear that. If you truly are what they say, and who you claim to be, I must assume that men have died in your name as in mine, whether you would will it or not.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yeah. I just want the cycle to end. There is a war ahead that we have to fight, no way around, but let’s make it the last, yeah?” Merlin was certain that there was a great deal he’d done that wasn’t so pardonable, but arguing with the prat when he made noble declarations took energy he didn’t have at that moment to spare, so for once he didn’t.

Arthur pressed the note into his servant’s hands, “If the council meets in a fortnight then _We’re_ going ‘hunting’ in a week. No more operating in the fucking dark.”

“Arthur, if you are going to seek peace with the Druids I think you should speak to Sir Percival, he may have some insights to offer if you approach him carefully. It would mean a great deal to him if we could discuss that aspect of our- _your_ intentions.”

“No Merlin, _ours_ was correct. See Lady Guinivere, then take Gwaine, with his extra weapons, as a guard to gather the supplies Gaius needs deep in the forest, out of sight. Carefully.” The warlock nodded.

 

Gwen was easy enough to find while Uther dozed, and her eyes widened as she read the note from Arthur. Morgana had made it a condition that any maid Uther assigned her be literate, or an education provided, of huge benefit now to the Lady Guinivere.

“Are you sure? No, silly question, of course that’s why the Prince sealed it himself. Ok. It’s been a while since anyone asked me to use _these skills_ properly. I’ll need to measure you properly, unless you know your measurements?” Casting a critical eye over her friend’s attire Gwen pressed her lips together and shook her head, “You know what, even if you do, I’m taking my own. This sounds interesting. I guess I’m not cleared to know about this ‘diplomatic mission’?” Her eyes twinkled and Merlin felt confusion spread through him...and suspicion.

“Gwen? Show me that message.” She smirked and held it just out of reach, turning when he grabbed, his reach longer than hers, sounding strangled when she tucked it neatly between her cleavage and folded her arms, silently daring him to try it. If he tried Arthur might actually throw him in a particularly dank dungeon. Gwen giggled as his aghast expression dissolved into a pout that she couldn’t take seriously, “It’s nothing bad, I promise. I was sure you knew what he asked for. Just tell him I’ll have it done. Come by mine tonight and I’ll get the numbers I need, bring a companion with you, can’t have us besmirching _both_ our reputations further. I’m quite looking forward to the project.” She grinned. Merlin did _not_ trust that grin. He knew better. Had done for a long time.

 

The knights training seemed more violent than usual, but since he was actively _restraining_ himself, Merlin found he was more envious of the knight’s actions than concerned as once he might have been. Sparring wasn’t just for getting rid of frustration. Ultimately it was practice that kept them alive, he knew that firsthand now. As it ended Merlin saw Arthur take Percival aside and say something, as he shot a panicked glance at Merlin the younger man met his eyes and shook his head. He hadn’t mentioned the knight’s wife, family, or history, but if they _were_ going to try and negotiate a ceasefire and peace, Percival’s knowledge of subtleties could be of great benefit to them.  He also thought the man simply deserved to _know_ that his King valued the lives of Percival’s family and intended to end the cycle of hate. Certainly Merlin had harboured no certainties until recently. _Faith_ , yes; but not the assurance he had now.

Gwaine materialised at his side seeing where his attention was focused. “Hey. Princess said I’ve to take you out for some practice and there’ll be horses waiting. You ready?”

Merlin side eyed the knight. “No. Are you?”

“Absolutely. I'm bloody glad that if anyone was to be charged with this and the power it's you. Plus I get to go riding with you, and try to get you up to being able to take some of us out with using _that_.”

“I don't think _I_ trust me with it. There's something _else_ in me Gwaine. Like a tidal lake I hold back all the time. I've dipped into it only a handful of times. It scares me, what I could do.”

“Mate, I know the legends, and, not to upset you, I've stayed with travelling camps in the past few years. Some stories carry. You don't scare me, because you are Merlin. Yeah, you are also Emrys. That's fucking terrifying, but my fear is _for_ you, not of you. Few men who hold power like that would be willing to serve another, or kneel. Let alone go to the stocks weekly for so long. Come on. I've got everything we need. Looks like Percy and princess need to talk. We won't help staying here. Anything special you are watching for?”

Merlin looked away, “Nah. Just caught in thought. You're right, we should go, before someone starts yelling tasks at us. Dangerous business staying still, especially if you happen to be a servant.”

He wanted to know what Arthur was organising with Gwen. He didn't like others having secrets that way, it felt unnatural.

Gwaine grabbed the distracted Merlin’s shoulder. “Go help him out of full armour and meet me at the stables.”

Arthur finally noticed he was being watched and stode with Percival towards the armoury, smiling at Merlin and gesturing for him to follow. As his servant began to unbuckle various straps Arthur observed closely. No apparent injuries, but with what he now knew he was tempted to check. He didn't like the idea that some of the people closest to him were afraid he'd think them weak.

Feeling the scrutiny Merlin rolled his eyes, paranoid prat. “Don't think too hard, that head takes enough knocks from this bunch of idiots.”

“Be careful, both of you. The part of the forest you need can be dangerous.”

“Reeeeally?” Merlin rolled his eyes, the sarcasm dripping from his voice, “You do know that I remain in your service for the safety and lack of near death experiences. Will this ruin that perfect record sire? Really I am torn, was there less danger facing the immortal army, or ousting a false queen, what do you think, Perce?”

The big man grinned at them and slapped him on the back, “I take no sides in the tiff. Now or ever.”

Merlin pouted. “Wuss.”

Arthur’s voice lost the teasing note. “Merlin? Whatever you do, don't die.”

Armour removed, the dark head jerked sharply and growled “ _That_ won't be a problem _sire_.”

 “Almost passable servants are hard to find.”

 

Merlin huffed but smiled and Arthur forced back the urge to stop there. Gwaine was right, if the warlock was to have his own place at the table… “Friends are harder.”

Stunned at the admission Merlin’s eyes were bright with emotion. “Hurry up, before  you are late..er. Attend me before the evening meal.”

He did, knowing drawing any attention to the _moment_ would definitely result in gratuitous punishment of emotional manservants. “Sir Percival and I have something to discuss. Don't look afraid of a report Sir Percival. You are not being targeted _personally_ , everyone's turn will come. Some already have been called to account.” Percy’s eyes flicked towards Merlin’s retreating form, and Gwaine’s recent late night sober returns made more sense.

Percy felt grim acceptance settle over him. So be it. “Aye, Sire.”

 Prince Arthur continued as if there was no possible impending doom hanging over them both. “Walk with me, as it turns out my chambers are safest for sensitive conversations, and Gwaine has managed to drink _all_ the strong stuff yet. No connection to me having Merlin move the stash. Actually that probably wasn’t the safest option, the idiot could be convinced to smuggle it…”

Percy smiled, “Not against his will sire, no one convinces Merlin to do something he really is set against. You ever tried?”

“Yes. It seems I am the exception to most Merlin rules, and that one applies to even me. Easier than trying to force him _not_ to do something though.”

 

“You might be surprised Sire.”

 

“I might. My ability to muster surprise recently has been suffering severe erosion though. Go in. It’s not the cave of a troll.”

Percival passed him cautiously and Arthur took a stabilising breath. This wasn’t _just Merlin_ , or Gwaine, who _still_ called him ‘Princess’. Percival was a proper knight, despite his common birth. He handed the unnerved man some strong wine; it was the first time he’d ever been inside the Prince’s chambers properly.

“So, Sir Percival. I’ve been speaking to some of the men who were on _that_ trip with us both.”

“Gwaine and Merlin.” Arthur raised a brow, he was sure it hadn’t been mentioned. “His room is opposite mine, I kept Merlin company on a bad night.”

His surface tension dissolved. “Of course. Yes. Taking time with each person after certain revelations was necessary. I couldn’t ignore your outright denial to speak under compulsion. This is your chance without that forcing you. I have found as a result of _other_ situations that it was necessary to guarantee the freedom of expression of engagement in activities and communities currently not legal within the kingdom of Camelot. This has been honoured, and I have no intention of betraying my word against the code. I cannot include you in any further discussions without being clear about where you stand with regard those illegal and persecuted groups.”

He spoke slowly and confidently to leave no doubt in Percival’s mind of his meaning.

“Illegal. Not unpractised.” He snorted, “My walls are somewhat more soundproof than I expected, which is why we are here, not in the council chambers or anywhere else.” Arthur leaned against his table. “Sit, pick one, it’s undignified to have wobbly knights, and while I could pick any of the others up, but you’d lie there until you got up on your own. Being the size of a tree may useful in battle, but not for that.”

Percy shook his head in disbelief, slipping into one of the seats without arms, those never worked for him. “You used… Sire, I think I’ve misunderstood. It sounded as though you were suggesting that someone in your inner circle had actively been involved in the use of or concealing of magic.... And accepting it.”

“Both, Percival.” For this to work, he couldn’t let anyone see any hint of doubt. “You are surprised.”

Damn straight he was ‘surprised’. “No arrests have been made, or alarms activated. Neither have been in unexpected proximity today.”

“I gave them my word. Sir Percival. Do you doubt me?”

“No Sire! I just… haven’t encountered this sort of calm reaction in Camelot before.” He had, but not from any _native_ Camelotians.

 “You have now.” Arthur pinned the knight with a look he couldn’t decipher.

 Percy nodded as the Prince settled in a more elegant chair opposite him. “So. Are you ready to speak, or will you choose to withdraw?” Years of practice had helped Arthur perfect the looking-into-your-soul stare that many of his instructors seemed to have.

“I’m not magic. I don’t _use_ magic. I was raised to work the land with hands and heart. My wife grew up differently; her family moved around a lot, mostly running from your father’s men, and the bounty hunters in his service. _They_ used it. A lot really. Small things mostly, lighting fires quickly, cleaning spells to save on water when there wasn’t much for the camp, mending when they couldn’t get the thread.”

Arthur’s gut churned, he was sure he knew where this was going, and while Percival carefully hadn’t mentioned it, Arthur had _been_ his father’s man completely.

“I’ve no idea why she chose me, she could have picked anyone.” Arthur knew why,

“But she decided to settle down with me, apparently it’s easier to learn to live that way than the other way around, and I’m easy to follow- I improved that after.”

“After…?” It was difficult to guess, Percy hadn’t had a woman when they met, or since to Arthur’s knowledge.

“Their murder. Bounty hunters going to Camelot. Weeks before our first child should have been… They ambushed the camp when she visited the family, I wasn’t there because we couldn’t afford to lose the harvest.” Percy’s voice was devoid of any emotion, knowing that if he let it creep in he’d never get through this conversation with the son of the man who was the cause of that persecution.

“I am sorry.” To his confusion the Crown Prince knelt before him. “I wasn’t there Percival, but I am guilty of the same crimes.  Though it can’t heal the loss I am truly sorry.” Reaching deep Percy dragged up the wishes of his lost love over instinct and grabbed Arthur’s shoulder.

 

“I forgive you.”

 

The simple statement took the Prince’s breath away. Whatever he’d expected that wasn’t it.

The past couldn’t be changed, and he returned the gesture, adopting a more dignified position.

“I see why… Your intent and commitment then cannot be doubted in this particular endeavour. My position on this has been deeply challenged; and changed recently. New, or rather very _old_ information has come to light, and other secrets that were _enlightening._ I wish to make peace with the Druids. Not conditional on forsaking magic. It is not as simple as that alone, but I would appreciate any advice you have for not accidentally insulting them, also the traditional dress for a respected member of the community- and no, you can’t know why.” A slow smile spread over Percy’s face, there weren’t many reasons he’d need that, and he’d as much as confessed his chambers had magic shielding. “In whatever way I may serve you Sire, I will.”

 “Good.”

 “Woollen weaves are common, your fine linens and imports would be out of place. Having a servant carry everything wouldn’t necessarily help convey a huge shift in your policies.”

The Prince’s hand twitched, “Merlin won’t be attending as my servant, Percival, he has his own orders.”

“Does he know them personally Sire?” He watched Arthur’s reactions closely, in Camelot, participating in a discussion like this one was a capital crime still.

Arthur frowned, “That is a harder question to answer than you think. The people as a whole seem fractured, scattered; he knows some of them.”

Percival _forced_ his muscles to relax. It appeared Merlin had kept _that_ connection quiet still.

“I see. Does he have _family_ among The People?”

Arthur laughed, “Would that it were so simple. Yours is not the only family secret to have come to light Percival, it’s up to _them_ how much they share.”

The Prince wondered what it would do to Percy if he was informed that Merlin had a better claim to being next in line to the throne of Camelot than Morgana did. He really was fortunate that they had never combined forces against him. If Morgana had had _any_ idea of Merlin’s power she would have fought Arthur for him. In the early days, when Arthur was still cruel, and resentful, before his sister became the woman she was now, she would have won. _Then_ she would have deserved to he was certain.

 

Percival was silent, inhaling sharply as something clicked, and he looked to Arthur wide eyed and slightly paler, “Uh… Merlin didn’t happen to mention any names at all, did he? I mean, names are _important_ to the druids.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, “That depends. Do you mean names, or _second_ names.”

Percy’s hand clenched to stop the quiver of his fingers, ‘Well either really. You know what, it’s not important, really _anything_ I can do to help Sire, either of you- I- he said something the other night that didn’t make much sense unless- but it would if you were what there’s a tiny chance you could be...”

 Arthur groaned, “Does this theory involve metaphors?”  
“It _didn’t_ Sire.” Percy stated firmly.

 “Good. I’m sick of them. I’m pretty sure the others are too.”

Percival nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with the Prince as he continued, “Anything Merlin asks, you are to answer. No matter how irrelevant or odd it may seem.”

“Yes sire.” He wondered where Gwaine and Merlin had _actually_ gone, but clearly he wasn’t to be trusted with _that_ yet. “Oh and Percy; nothing of any of that leaves this room, or my suspension of executions will become void.” The huge knight understood very well. His world felt like it was tilted on its axis, wisps of campfire stories, throwaway comments from Merlin, songs his mother in law sang, all whirling together.  He hadn’t argued with the man stating he went to the lake of Avalon, but mortals couldn’t find it and return, or so common wisdom said.

The stories could be wrong though, couldn’t they?


	34. Chapter 34

Gwaine kept up a constant stream of inane drivel until the were out of sight and sound of the city, beyond the treeline where he slowed down. “Other than the place you go to meet your actually Not Dead friend do you have any quiet places for practicing? Drawing extra attention to it isn’t very stealthy.”

Merlin frowned, “Not really, there’s usually not much time, and Morgana and Morgause had spies and their own secret meetings, out here is risky. Seriously, the only totally _safe_ place in Camelot with regards to _humans_ is the Valley of Fallen kings, which has its own dangers.”

“Do you trust me?”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose, “When it matters, completely.” Actually the only thing he didn’t trust was Gwaine’s assertion that a drink would do him no harm when he handed it to his friend.

“Good, follow me. There’s a clearing that is heavily guarded up to the west here, I’ll never find it on my own, but I’ll get us close enough for you to do that easily, the wards are set to only hide it fully from those who mean harm. If Princess asks, I know nothing about this one.” He winked.

Merlin grumbled “You couldn’t have told me about this before?”

Gwaine only shrugged. “You’re Arthur’s right hand, whether he admits it or not. Had to be sure it was safe. Suspicion wasn’t enough. Even certainty of your _gifts_ didn’t mean you couldn’t agree with him about some things. I’m reliably informed there’s a ‘path’ folk like yourself can follow.”

Merlin closed his eyes, centring himself and feeling the faint tickle, “Yeah, it’s there.”  
“I don’t think you’re supposed to sense it yet mate.”

“I’m not supposed to do a lot of things.” He grinned, “Those wards need reinforcing soon.”

“I take no responsibility for you fucking with the arrangement if we irritate the official users.”

Focused on the path Merlin missed the last part and nodded absently “That’s fine, you barely take responsibility for picking up the shit in your own chambers.”

As they got closer the waves of surprise got more obvious and Merlin turned his mount to face Gwaine, hissing at him. “ _Gwaine! Tell me this isn’t a druid’s camp or training spot.”_

“Problem? It’s invisible. As is anyone within the circle.”

" _Gwaine,_ I’m bloody _Emrys,_ if _they_ are there I’ll get _nothing_ done.”

“Merlin. Consider it practice. There'll be maybe two or three of them, you go in, and you ask politely and firmly to use the space. You are as close to a king as they ever have, and they aren’t going to complain. I expected it to be empty at this time though, so sorry about that. Some of us can’t read minds.” the knight smirked.

Merlin’s brows knit together, “I don’t do that Gwaine, it’s… I don’t spy on folk naked either, or look without permission.”

“No; but you _could_. So thanks I guess. Must have been tempting on occasion. Not often. There’s a lot that you _could_ do and don’t. If I thought you _were_ the sort I wouldn’t joke that way.” 

Apparently the warlock glare was less effective when used on Gwaine. “You utter git, you couldn’t have checked it was free first?”

“Oi! Can’t find it without you, remember?”

Merlin sighed. It was easy to _get_ angry at Gwaine but very hard to _stay_ angry at him. He was probably right about the practice. “Come on then, they already know I’m here. It’s a bit late for being shy. Trixie, just follow the way to the sweetest grass.”

He guided them through the last bit calmly, no point in panicking, only ever panic _after_ the situation isn’t pressing he reminded himself.

Gwaine followed closely behind, shivering as the seemed to pass some invisible barrier, the wards he assumed. As soon as he dismounted he scoped the glade. There were four of them, two men, one woman, and a girl; all of them were staring intensely at Merlin, two having bent the knee. Quite rightly as far as Gwaine was concerned but Merlin looked horribly awkward about the whole thing, with his eyes darting between them, making Gwaine think the silence was only what _he_ was hearing.

His friend caught his eye as Gwaine waited quietly. “You’re being uncharacteristically quiet there.”  
“My mam taught me it was rude to interrupt.”

Merlin’s surprise was obvious, “You heard that?”  
The knight snorted in amusement “No; but you did.”

The warlock cocked his head, “You caught what was happening?”  
Gwaine rolled his eyes, “How do you think I stayed alive so long living the way I did, seriously? If I was _that_ stupid I’d’ve died years ago in a bar fight for something meaningless.”

 “Thanks Gwaine.” Merlin muttered, stepping forward to greet them properly, “Isildur, I’m so glad it’s just you. I didn’t expect this to be busy or I’d have found somewhere else, but we’re due back early and I’ve no time to find a better place now. I need try something out here that requires fewer... _alive..._ people in the vicinity, not that it takes much energy to shield anyone, but the split in concentration is bad for first time attempts at anything and _this one_ has no shield.”

Isildur bowed his head. “We’ll give you two hours alone here. Please don’t destroy it all. I see you’ve finally brought someone with you willingly.”

 “Gwaine is hard to shake. You are correct though, I have begun to make arrangements and the other half of the coin is aware of who I am, _what I am_.”

“I had wondered after you commandeered our dreams the other night. Thank you for being cautious by the way, my young niece picked up on it. Her mother came with us to spar.”

Merlin looked as indicated to the woman on her knees and groaned, “Oh _gods_ , don’t do that, come on, up, please. I’m not some royal prat who needs bowing or sweet words, is the girl ok?”

“Um, yes Emrys, she was merely surprised. At least now we know she has the Gift.” Merlin nodded, “This is my husband Emrys, he wished to practice a skill we haven’t used for a while.” She indicated the second man.

“Yeah, I’ll check next time and avoid overlapping, but I really do have to use the space and would be concerned about injuring someone, no matter how skilled a healer Isildur is. The last thing he needs is extra work.”

The man rose and closed the distance to stand next to his wife. “We’ll leave you to your business Emrys. If a knight can enter this space now you have restored my faith that the days of Albion may indeed draw near. It is an honour to meet you My Lord. Blessed be.” He bowed and pulled his wife with him, Merlin catching his glance of fond exasperation as the woman tried not to look too star-struck and cooperate.

Isildur caught the girl who had darted back to him, “This is Eithne, turns out she has a history lesson we’ve forgotten that cannot wait. Good luck Emrys. I shall be present at the council. Perhaps next time you could make the summons a _little_ quieter.” His eyes twinkled.

 

Merlin smiled “I’ll try, but I can attest that there are far more disturbing ways to wake, and Kilgarrah can shout louder.”

 The Druid grunted his agreement, “The Great Dragon can drown out the river when he wants to.”

 He knew that well, “Yes. Imagine it mentally, when he feels ignored or hard done by.” Merlin shuddered.

 “No thanks, being woken or summoned by _Emrys_ is quite enough.” Huffed Isildur, failing to convey proper disapproval.

 “Fine, I’ll practice that too. Enjoy the history lesson- oh, and you and I _need_ to arrange some of those urgently, there have been some new developments.”

  
“So I gathered. If you can guarantee he will not bring harm to my Clan I would be willing to meet with the Once and Future King should you ask it.”

 Merlin glanced down to the girl at the elder’s side. “Then we’ll set a meeting place. Separate from the camp if you prefer it; unless you would be willing to have two of our friends wait with the people. Gwaine here, and at least one of the others would willingly leave their weapons in your care. No harm will come to you.”

“Don’t mislead them if you are to bring them into my home Emrys. _You_ are always welcome, but our past experiences with certain ‘friends’ has taught me caution even with that.”

 

Old guilt stirred in him, “And I, Isildur. Any _friends_ with us would be specifically chosen for their sympathies, Gwaine here knew of this place and crossed the wards with me. You need not fear him.”

 Isildur nodded thoughtfully, “Meet with me before the council is held. The tide is changing, and we all feel it. Albion is holding its breath Emrys...take the place you were _meant_ to hold.”

 

The two druids walked from the glade and vanished from normal sight as they crossed the wards.

“You know mate, I think they want to help you. Come on. We’re starting with matched long knives. Learn to use two hands together, move your body with better awareness. You might want to swap out one knife later for one side magic, one side steel. Or use knives only as a backup option. I’ve seen you with a sword, and we can work on it but that’s not going to be _your_ weapon unless it’s a very specific one. Did Arthur ever tell you which points to watch on a body to know their next movements? No? _Bastard._ You don’t want to be defending _only_ in the moment. Every warrior should learn to _anticipate_ the next move. _You_ always have an escape option in mind, almost always crazy, but mostly they work, and we already knew you were mad.”

 

Merlin held the long knives looking at them and frowning. “I’m not a warrior Gwaine.”

 That his friend disagreed on, and he knew that Lancelot also considered Merlin as a knight.

“You’re not exactly a simple farmer anymore either Merlin. We’ve fought immortal armies, the undead, mercenaries and bad guys. You’ve taken down the High priestess. Sigan if the story was true, the great dragon _before_ he called you Lord; and are preparing to face the Witch and whatever she brings with her. Being willing to fight for your home and survival isn’t a bad thing Merlin. All you are deciding here is whether to do it _well_ and effectively, or ineptly and at a disadvantage. How many lessons on strategy do you think Morgana managed to steal, how many hours she watched and listened to the knights instruction? She has years of education in this on you Merlin, and a detailed knowledge of Camelot’s weaknesses already. In structure and in its people. You are in control of yourself, and the weapons Merlin. Is Arthur wrong for this determination to fight for his home? Am _I_ evil?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow, daring Merlin to refuse, knowing he couldn’t.

He grinned as Merlin’s hands tightened on the hilts and his friend laughed, “This doesn’t mean I’ve decided for sure that _you_ aren’t evil, Gwaine, I could be persuaded you know.”  
“Well I _am_ devilishly handsome, so I’ve been told.”

“You’re an ass.” It was almost a reflex by now.

Unruffled the knight only adjusted his grip on his own weapons. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”  
Merlin sighed, “Gods help me, I do, Gaius might be right about that serious mental defect after all.”

“Aye. Probably. Oh, an' you might want to be careful with those Merlin. Those aren’t just any old knives.”

“Gwaine! What the hell did you do? What are these things?”

The ex-rogue smirked at him smugly, “They’re the Princess’s old knives.”

Merlin almost dropped them in shock. _“WHAT?!”_

“Seems he ‘found’ some of his old training weapons and reckoned you might need ‘em.” Gwaine grinned at his friend, aware that the quality would initially have entirely bypassed Merlin, there was no way a servant could ever afford the material for those blades, let alone the craftsmanship. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Merlin’s face at the rest.

Arthur hadn’t said anything when he brought those down earlier. Hadn’t even been caught, but Gwaine knew his weapons, and _these_ were no armoury spares, as he’d confirmed during training. If he didn’t think it would get him six weeks of an unpleasant patrol duty Gwaine might have called Arthur’s concern sweet.

“Now that I have your full attention, practice time. You can get your revenge when Princess let’s you scare the shit out of the knights and includes you in sparring for real.”

“Something is very wrong with you Gwaine.”

“Possibly. Stop trying to delay things, or I’ll go first. No magic this time, learn the skills without it first. I’ve seen dark magic that can dampen or cancel other powers. Never leave yourself defenceless, that would make you and idiot and I _really_ don’t want to have to agree with Princess. Don’t make me that guy.”

 

Merlin stopped resisting. Avoidance hadn’t been working well for them before. Gwaine was right. If Merlin _had_ to stop being ‘just a peasant farmer’, and become Merlin; right hand of the Once and Future King, he was going to do it fucking properly and have fun with it.

He’d always assumed that he’d die young, probably violently, as most youths with magic did, and it had instilled a thick streak of determination to live in the moment; one that hadn’t been particularly reduced by discovering his immortality. If anything that had made him more reckless and determined to wring out every drop of happiness he could.

 Morgana could bring it.

She’d be met by Emrys and The King.

 Gwaine saw the moment his friend’s resolve crystallised and felt a wave of relief.

Merlin needed to learn to fight confidently without being entirely reliant on his magic, but it mattered to the knight that he wasn’t forgotten as a person and treated as an asset.  
Violence made Merlin recoil naturally, but he recognised its necessity and had always acted on behalf of his family and home.

Gwaine wasn’t naive, he knew Merlin wouldn’t always have someone at his side. He’d fought alone for years, not something that should be a source of shame, but he was too used to it. After so long, old habits would die hard, and he’d slip, or not realise something was important before he’d acted. Learning the physical skills also gave him a cover if someone he didn’t want to _know_ about the magic questioned his position, or survival in battles he _shouldn’t_ survive without it- and there were more than enough examples of those already. An oath to a dragon was binding, and it would be easier to fulfil with Merlin’s cooperation.

“Begin.” he called.

Merlin followed the order.

\-----------------------------------

 

The vaults were dark, not only literally, but with the oppressive concentration of dangerous magical objects, some that reacted with others, some weapons, others cursed; even ghosts were careful _there_ , and the deeper you went, the more dangerous things were.

The caverns held magic and memories that went back far further than any mere lifetime.

Nothing was stored properly, carelessly wrapped or misplaced. Some didn’t make sense. Extremely powerful artefacts next to dull exotic lamps, misaligned crystals that made even _him_ twitchy, a thousand year old staff next to a cure for baldness, potent talismans and toys.

Oh, Lachlan found _plenty_ , though he did find a couple of his own things on the way and resolved to ensure _those_  got back to an appropriate owner.

He’d fully intended to dictate a map to Merlin first, but those changed things. His _own_ belongings made it worth leading the man down personally. Especially since the coat had no _magic_ at all; almost. It was just designed for a Dragonlord  and could be flown in, unlike normal cloaks. The specially made leather provided slight padding for crashes or wind. The lacing ensuring it wouldn’t just flap and blow away or pose a choking hazard, sleeveless for freedom of movement.

The family coat of arms it bore was wrong, that should be Balinor’s, but he’d no idea what happened to any of _his_ , and this was better than nothing. A shorter version would have been better suited to Emrys, but while almost all dragonlords flew from time to time, few attempted the same kind of stunts the kid did. It was the same reason Balinor had modified his own though, wearing the long version only in battles to cover any vital arteries. Sanity had never been their strongest trait; even for dragonlords they had thrill issues.

It had been a huge relief to find that the cup of life was absent from the collection, along with several other objects Uther had _wanted_. He couldn’t see any dragon forged swords needing rescued, which had been another possible concern.

Seeing things laid out so abstractly was disturbing, these had all been things he had seen used in life, either casually or in sacred rituals. It still felt _wrong_ seeing some things that had been for the women-only rituals, and why an _ink set_ was locked away was anyone’s guess.

He did find too many things needing fixed, or changed to but those would need to be organised by priority. Times like this not being able to use writing implements was a real pain in the neck.

 ----------

 Merlin ached all over. He’d thought _Arthur_ was tough on him, pushed to breaking point. Right now he seemed like the epitome of a merciful and benevolent master with anything but a mace.

“I hate you.” Merlin moaned, Emrys lay bruised in the long grass after the torture session Gwaine called a lesson.

“I know.”

 “No, Really. _I hate you._ ”

“Yep. I know.”

“What the _ever-loving fuck_ did you just do to me?”

“What Arthur does to all the boys that turn up sure they are going to walk into knighthoods. Those who pass the test anyway.

You’re just feeling the difference between actually training your reactions and body, and him using you as a stress reliever or teaching you a crisis response to stay alive without it being noticed by experienced eyes who don't believe in training peasants. _Or_. _Exactly what I was told to_. You’re bloody strong under all that, farm-work and physical labour develops strength, you just need to learn technique and speed. You’ve got the basics already, you just haven’t been made to think about them strategically before and refined it. Not a problem when you are facing most folk, but Morgana isn’t going to be fielding your average bandits, and the _Catha WILL_ know the difference. The first few days are the worst mate, like learning to ride. You did well.”

  
“I think I might be dead.”

 Gwaine snorted, “I doubt it. You’re way too mouthy for a dead guy.”

 “Nope. This is definitely what being dead feels like.”

 “I’d offer to put you out of your misery but you said pain still works.” There weren't any others Merlin knew who would willingly  _tease_ him about immortality and he laughed even as he rolled his eyes.“Yeah. Thanks for that Gwaine.”

  
“You’re welcome. We’re going back by the river, we’re neither of us particularly fresh, and _you_ are supposed to serve Princess tonight.”  
Merlin groaned deeply.  
“How am I supposed to do that when I can’t feel my arms?”  
“Magic?” Gwaine suggested innocently.

  
“Fuck off. I’d never live it down.” Arthur would be absolutely insufferable if he did.

“Pain killing spell?”

 Merlin snorted, he was pretty sure his magic would consider this self inflicted pain and leave him to suffer. “Yeah, if I could make them work reliably on myself. My magic’s a bloody masochist. Not naturally inclined towards healing- that takes effort.”

 

Gwaine looked over at his friend, shaking his head, “Your magic is an idiot.”

Merlin burst out laughing at the seriousness of Gwaine’s declaration and groaned as the muscles protested.

“It is. It _really_ is sometimes. Feels like someone relentlessly trying to teach me a lesson without telling me what it is, just _hoping_ I might cotton on eventually.”

 The older man tilted his head, “It heals you though, that’s something eh, and you know how to make really revolting concoctions that work. Perhaps it’s trying to teach you to be more careful.”

 “Unfortunately I am also burdened with the curse of knowledge, it makes it _so_ much worse when you make it yourself. Urgh!”

 “Never tell me.” Gwaine grimaced and mock shuddered, “I am absolutely ok with being ignorant of those horrors as long as humanly possible.”

 “I’m saving it for a special occasion. Are you going to do this to me again?”

 “Yes.” Gwaine stated unequivocally.

“How long for?”

  
“Daily for the next fortnight as per the Princess’ instructions, then until I’m satisfied you can stay alive long enough to save you if some evil witch figures out a way to disrupt your magic.”

 Merlin felt chilled, “They can do that?” He hadn’t realised until recently it was possible for anyone at all, and he’d never met anyone as strong as himself. Many with much more experience or learning, but not raw power.

 “It depends. Merlin, I’ve seen magic used for beautiful things, _good_ things, but there’s darkness to everything; hemlock to thyme, fresh water to corrupted, dark magic to light and neutral. Dragons aren’t the only creatures of the old religion. I don’t know about them, names, how they’re used, where they would be, only that they exist. Morgana doesn’t seem like the type to shy away from something extreme, or dangerous. Hell, it might even make it more appealing. Not a risk worth taking. Average sorcerer, not a chance. Dark High Priestess, _maybe_. Never heard of one of those before. Last one turned to darkness, but it wasn’t like _her._ ”  Gwaine shifted uncomfortably, doom and calamity really wasn’t his forte.

 

“No.” Merlin murmured, “Cycles, always in patterns, somewhere this has happened before. Just have to find it.”

 “Find what Merlin?” Gwaine frowned, going carelessly after some artefact wasn’t like Merlin,

“The pattern.” His eyes looked unfocused.

 

“Merlin? Merlin! Focus! Forget patterns just now, time’s up. Poor Trixie is still waiting, remember?”

 He blinked as though returning from some other place. “Mmm, yeah. Yeah she’s probably  getting itchy feet by now.”

 Gwaine looked him over critically, “Are you alright mate?”

 “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine. Just got distracted for a minute. Nothing important. Are these really Arthur’s old knives?”

 Gwaine eyed his friend with suspicion, not buying it for a second, but allowing him the avoidance for now to think things over. “They really were. Look at the etching, it’s the symbol of his house. We need to sort out some kind of light armour for you, look, I know that it’s not a good question, but do you scar?”

Merlin winced. “Not always. Depends on healing time, if I have to try and keep it slow sometimes, most of the really acute ones, or things that _should be._ Don’t worry, I keep the spell to cover it up most of the time.”

 

“Don’t slow it for me. Is holding that spell all the time not draining?” His friend frowned.

“No, ‘course not, but I’m not _that_ stupid anyway.”

Gwaine raised a brow dubiously but didn’t argue. “So?”

 “Anchored it to the neckerchief.”

 “You have magical _neckerchiefs?”_

 “Most of them.” Merlin rolled his eyes at Gwaine’s amusement, “What? Like invisibility cloaks were _less_ weird? Or dancing shoes? Or- you know what, no. Yes. My name is Merlin, and I have magic neckerchiefs.”

 “Uhuh. Can I have one?”

He looked at his friend curiously, most people would try to avoid them on the confession. “Depends. What would you use it for?”

“Well… some bloke once told me they were useful for all sorts of things.”

“Oh gods Gwaine. No. No you may _not_ misuse one of my neckies… Bring me something that’s actually _yours_ and I’ll enchant it any way you like that isn’t immoral and won’t result in a gruesome public death or bloody coup.”

“Aww. Fine. Can you enchant my cape to ripple heroically without the weather mattering?”

 “Fine.” He rolled his eyes, he wasn't sure how this became his life.

 “What about my boots to be more waterproof?”

  
Merlin’s lips twisted upwards, “I’ll think about it. I’m not sure you deserve comfort after what you’ve done to me.”

 

“Almost definitely not. Only ‘cause we care though.”

 “He shouldn’t.” The Warlock gaze dropped and Gwaine sighed.

“You can’t think like that Merlin.”

  
“You don’t know what I’ve done Gwaine.”

  
“Everyone makes mistakes.” He answered calmly. Powerful men’s actions had proportionate effects for good and ill, he knew that well.

  
“Not everyone causes deaths of innocents. I released the Great dragon Gwaine. I murdered The High Priestess on the Blessed Isle.”

  
The knight sighed. “Aye, I know; and one day you’ll tell me the story. I don’t know what deals with devils and moral dilemmas you’ve been living but I’m sure it wasn’t a decision made _lightly_. Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t do it sooner.”

 The colour drained from Merlin’s face as he swallowed, “You trust me that much? How could you possibly know that I…?”

 

“Yeah. I do. Come on mate, it’s not hard. There wasn’t another powerful witch or warlock in Camelot at the time, Kilgarrah while he was imprisoned wasn’t going to have many visitors. Only one I know who’s reckless enough to walk into a dragon’s cave and try to make friends is you. You met your father once and came back a dragonlord, but you couldn’t exactly command him before. Someone set the Great dragon free, and had to be in Camelot to do it. Couldn’t have without magic, and the dragon’s still alive but stopped going near the city- or humans. Arthur probably worked it out, if he hasn’t- let’s face it, he _does_ tend to miss the obvious- he _will_.

The questing beast. You didn’t just wake up and think ‘Oh, I fancy taking out a high priestess today’ and away to the Blessed isle on a daunder, did you. You messed with the balance mate, no one just _does_ that without consequence. Hardly anyone _could._ Always has to be a reeeeally good reason. Or no awareness of meaning and a helluva lot of power.”

 

“Gwaine, How do you know that?”

 

“Told you didn’t I? Stupid men die fast in times like these. Information is more valuable than gold some places, and campers _really_ like a good story. Your _name_ never came up about the Priestess, but there weren’t many of those left to go around, and everyone knows what a questing beast means. Only one way out of that. Going through this kinda country, knowing what’ll kill _for sure_ is useful. Avoid it for the shit that _might, probably_ kill you. Questing beast or giant scorpion? Take the giant scorpion. Bandits or magic? I have none, so the bandits’ll do me fine thanks. Easy. All about priorities mate. Mine was staying alive.” The knight said as though it should be obvious.

  
“So normal folk outside just know this stuff?” It was a terrifying thought.

 

Gwaine shrugged. “Nah. Probably not. _Travellers_ know, practicers of the Old religion know- no idea how Morgana remains ignorant, educated men and women without the censorship of Camelot will put it together. Most of the folk who’ve settled down or not returned from full exile won’t have enough of the pieces to make sense of it. They’ll know magic is back. That’s about it. Caerleon needed me to know who _not_ to piss off accidentally. Your Dad was on the list. I think he figured that even Uther wasn’t crazy enough to keep a dragon in the cellar if he was convinced there was no chance of controlling him. So was Nimue. Not that she ever showed up, but it was important enough apparently not to risk being connected to someone who fucked with her, so not just a normal sorceress. There are dark magic ways of negating normal sorcerers magic. Don’t know if it works on warlocks and witches. Never asked.”  
  
Merlin made a disgusted sound, “ _That’s_ what you decided not to question?”

“I don’t have any mate. Didn’t occur that I’d need to know.” Gwaine offered by way of explanation.

Merlin sighed. “Yeah, I never thought I’d need to know courtly graces. We all get blindsided. Some more than most.”

 

“Says the man who accidentally dragged me into a prophesied legend.”

“Now that’s unfair Gwaine. Dragging implies _force_. I _invited_ you and you have terrible impulse control. You should work on that. It’s bad for your health.”

 

“No point living until you’re eighty if you never actually do anything, at least nothing _good_.” Gwaine smiled crookedly at his friend.

 “True. Just promise me you’ll _try_. You’re the only one except Gaius who knows, I think, but I’m going to have to say goodbye to far too many people. Don’t be _too_ stupid.”

“On my honour.”

Merlin raised a brow. “I’ve got some now. Never swore on my sobriety or celibacy, you’re good.”

His friend chuckled, “Sure you do. I don’t need any flowery oaths Gwaine. You’re always there when it matters, haven’t let me down yet, even when you’re not at my side. I don’t tag just anyone to make finding them possible. Only ever did that with you and Lancelot. Would have with Will but back then I’d no idea it was possible. I could do way better now, the first is clumsily done, painfully so.”  
“You learn to use those knives in a coordinated fashion and I’ll let you redo it so no-one sees your first go at _that_.”

“Deal.”

Gwaine reached down and pulled Merlin to his feet, ignoring the cursing. At least he wasn’t actually _cursing him._

Mounting the horses was an agony he did _not_ need, but at least it had done a good job of keeping his mind off other things.

Riding jolted abused muscles just enough to keep him from getting lost in thought before the river stop.

“You know I could just clean us with a spell right?”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t feel as good and we’re not without options right now. Let’s save that one, ay?” Merlin looked troubled but nodded, acknowledging silently that there would be a time they did _not_ have options. Dismounting was even harder.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you to use it on me mate, I just prefer a proper bath. So do you.”

“Uhm, Gwaine, this one isn’t enchanted. I really wouldn’t.”

“So cast it or I’ll turn around. I’m not about to ask.”

“Really?... do I have your word on that?”

Gwaine caught the note of vulnerability in Merlin’s voice, not one he heard often, for whatever reason his answer mattered to Merlin.

“Yeah, I don’t break promises to friends.” He shucked out of his top layer and boots, glancing up at the warlock. “Up to you. I’m going back less gross.”

Merlin ran his hands through his hair looking conflicted, and chose, beginning to methodically remove everything, as Gwaine had before plunging into the river he kept his lips pressed together, heart racing. It was nothing, and yet everything.

Gwaine’s eyes widened momentarily as he saw Merlin spell-free, and the warlock prepared for the comment or questions he knew were coming, and was met with nothing.

“You coming in or not? You’ll freeze standing butt naked in the open, and a pale streak like you reflects the sun, far too easy a target to stray arrows.”

No mention of any marks or demand for explanations. He knew he’d have no choice with Arthur. This time he just felt something loosen in him and splashed into the water grinning widely. He’d covered them in front of Lancelot because the man worried so much, and thankfully didn’t know what Emrys _meant._ He didn’t want to give him _more_ reason to worry.

Checking there were no watchers Merlin’s eyes flashed, and the river surged, a huge wave overtaking Gwaine and drenching the knight. Merlin lost his footing as he laughed, the soaking well worth it after past water fights he’d left the rivers alone. He could swear the river was giggling though.

“Ooh, you will _pay_ for that! You cheating little-stay still!”

 

When they did get out he felt a little less sore, as though his magic had decided he didn’t have to suffer with _no_ relief after he used it.

For one beautiful minute in time Merlin felt at _peace._

 Then the world began to move normally again, but this time when he redressed he forgot he wasn’t alone and didn’t have to cover anything.

Riding back there wasn’t much of their usual banter, but there wasn’t any _need_ for it either to connect without sharing anything outside the present. They stopped along the way for him to collect certain ingredients that he had promised Gaius and Merlin listed a bunch of purposes for each as his friend made noises of acknowledgement. Harvesting was their cover anyway.

Gwaine watched the freer look of his friend in wonder, the smile more open than it had been before. Merlin had always been cheerier than most, but there was a relaxed vibe, which was often missing with others present or he was more aware of differences. The ‘happy drunk’ was far too familiar with that to think it was all there was to anyone. It was a vital _part_ of them, just not _all._ Seeing the _other_ parts of Merlin felt like a privilege.  He wanted to know about the scars. Gods did he _want_ to know that, but he meant it when he swore acceptance and not to ask. Shutting up actually often invited more from someone like Merlin anyway than poking with a stick. Or goading.

Merlin would have to spend the next few hours as ‘just’ a servant, so Gwaine let Emrys rest and consider what had happened before he was plunged back into _that._

 

Back at the stables, as Merlin The Manservant he had to change faces and Gwaine wasn’t really supposed to help them put the horses away, but the stable boys were happy to take over and got on well with Merlin when he wasn’t doing their jobs.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Gaius wanted to speak to you. I told him I’d pass along the message.”

“Yeah? Unfortunately I’m terribly allergic to old men. Late onset you know, but they cause mood swings, blurred vision, and uh...itching.”

“Riiight. Well, you can tell him that yourself when you see him. I’m not telling him that _you_ think he’s toxic to. I’m not _disagreeing_ with you, but you’re a big boy and can fight your own fucking battles.”

“You know I did try that once, but it turns out the twain should never be joined. At least not without a good deal of rope. Talking of rope, do you have any I could-”

Seeing where this was going Merlin held up a hand, interrupting; “Nope. All of the nope Gwaine. Now _or ever.”_ _  
_ “Awww.”

“I need my rope.”

Gwaine buckled laughing as Merlin flashed him a cheeky wink and left whistling.


	35. Chapter 35

Merlin didn’t make it as far as Arthur before an excited looking ghost found him, “Oh good. I was just wondering how to make things more complicated. What are you doing here? I’m supposed to be working.”

“What? Can’t you multitask?”

 

Merlin grumbled. “Yes but if anyone else goes past _I_ look like a crazy person talking to myself.”

“You already look like a crazy person Emrys, have publicly claimed a serious mental problem, why am I what would give you away?”

“Oh my gods, I don’t have time for this, seriously _why are you here now- and_ if they really believed it I would not be allowed to help the physician. _”_

 

“Because I did the thing you asked me to do and there are certain items, and problems you should know about.” Lachlan looked up as two maids closed on them, “Drat, it _is_ too busy for this. You’ll have to come down later, when it’s easier to get into the vaults.”

 

“OI! Wait, I’m supposed to see Gwen tonight, I’m busy. You can’t make demands like that without warning.”

“You do. I’ll see you when she releases you.” Merlin wondered how long they’d been watching him...and how fast ghost gossip worked.

 

“When she-? No, she’s not _mine_ , Gwen’s a friend, just a friend, Arthur would probably have me executed for even _thinking_ of her like _that_ , and she’s like a sister. A really annoying sister who has blackmail material, and is not afraid to use it. She’s like absinthe, sweet and deadly.”

 

“I thought you liked deadly.” he smirked.

 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You got me. I have a thing for people who could kill me. Gwen wouldn’t.” he drawled.

 

Lachlan gave him a strange look. “Maybe. Beware of the Lady. She loved the Lady Morgana, they were very close. That will wait though, unimportant. Serve the King now, see Guinivere after, then vaults, and studying.”

 

He glared at the ex-dragonlord, “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t.”

  
“No. I don’t.” he sighed, it would be so much easier if he could, “Aren’t the living supposed to _fear the dead?_ ” Merlin asked accusingly.

 

The dragonlord smirked, “Aren’t the living supposed to be _separate_ from the dead? Are those who die not supposed to respectfully _stay_ dead? ‘Supposed to’ is useless. It does not apply to you. Or rather _human_ rules do not. Something closer to dragon rules does, or the demigods and nature spirits. Whatever. You’ll work it out when you’ve time.”

 

Merlin glared at the ghost, resenting the added comments about rules and how alarmingly atypical they seemed to be for him. “Why are you still here? Go! Shoo, before you’re caught.” The ghost raised an eyebrow pointedly at him and Merlin leaned his head against the stone, “Fine, _make me the crazy person!_ ” he muttered.

The maids who walked by them looked concerned at the man leaning against the wall but continued on their way. Sleep deprivation did strange things to a person and they all knew the apprentice physician- Prince’s manservant certainly hadn’t had much of it recently.

 

When he finally got to Arthur’s chambers, the Prince was surrounded by messages and parchments and was jolted out of his reverie by Merlin accidentally slamming the door, relieved at the lack of extra company.

Arthur relaxed back in his seat. “Merlin? You’re looking… something. What is it that people say when they mean something different?”

“A lie sire. We call it a lie. I look like I’ve been battered, swimming, riding through country with no trails, and decanted here confused. Possibly slightly manic. Or ragey.”

 

“Yes, that certainly is one way of describing- for god's sake Merlin, sit down before you fall down and make the rest of my floor as muddy as you are. You’re cleaning is half hearted at best, do us both a favour by not making _more_ work.”

His intended “I’m fine, totally fine,” came out as a strained “Thanks Arthur,” As he dropped into a far less elegant chair than his master's.

Arthur smiled, a hint of sadistic glee showing through, “It looks like Gwaine did as I asked.”  
“Yeah. He said that. Why _do_ squires stay Arthur? Why don’t they all leave when you do this to them?”

“Lots of reasons.” The prat said blandly. “Did the weapons work?”  
Merlin smiled gently at the prince who pretended he didn’t notice, “They helped. I certainly haven’t anything of my own like that. Mother didn’t have anything. _We_ didn’t have anything. I wish I’d known before what she gave up.”

“Don’t Merlin. You can’t carry guilt for choices _others_ have made, or undermine their willing sacrifices. If she regretted it, if she wanted you to know, she’d have told you. Choosing you over _things_ , position or possessions, was the right decision; and those weapons _are_ your own. At least until I can have some made to your measurements.”

Merlin ducked his head, happiness bubbling underneath his stress. “Thanks Arthur. I think there might have been an actual compliment in there. Are you sure you’re alright? No bad knocks to the head earlier or problems with Percy?”

“Shut up Merlin. No, no _problems_. I’m... _nice_ … to you sometimes. Mostly unintentionally, but that was arguably a deliberate effort.”   
Merlin fidgeted, staying still with magic swirling under his skin was hard at the best of times.

“I wish I knew what happened to my father’s stuff. I’ve never had the time to go back and look at his cave, he seemed to be living with an absolute minimum, and I don’t know what _dragonlords_ generally carried. Some things should definitely not be left lying around though, and I wondered if they were hidden, or if Uther destroyed it all. I’ve never seen anything, and I knew the area around Ealdor inside out. Cave system and all.”   
There was a lull as they both reflected on the various problems. “We could go back. Ride out that way.” Arthur offered; generously he thought.   
“Uh, Arthur, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I mean, you told me not to cry over- over that- and Camelot was in danger, we couldn’t stop, and then you knew he was a sorcerer. He doesn’t have a grave and I don’t know if I can… I never got to bury or burn him, ok? I can’t go back when I just _left_ his body there. Anywhere else sire, anywhere at all.”

The prince dragged a hand down his face and was silent for a long moment. “We need to find out from Gaius and your _friend_ what a proper ceremony would involve. I’ve enough unsettling spirits wandering about. Let’s make sure your father at least can go to his rest.”   
Merlin’s face changed to the blank, emotionless mask the prat now finally understood as when he was feeling things most intensely and needed the thickest armour.  “Sire, it’s illegal to mark our graves.”

Arthur winced at the way Merlin said ‘our’, clearly he expected no special treatment that way even now the prince knew his status, the resigned acceptance decided him. “As of tomorrow that will no longer be the case.”

“Arthur?” Merlin looked at him bewildered.

“No one should go to the next world unmarked. I can’t overhaul the laws on magic in a day, and I don’t believe it would necessarily be wise to do so, but I can introduce changes as regent, small things at first. It might be enough to help reassure them that I am serious. I wouldn’t make any changes so big without proper research first, it’s not just because it’s magic.”

  
Merlin nodded, there was wisdom in the prince’s words, though he wouldn’t watch any more executions for having magic, he couldn’t now that Arthur _knew_. “You really think the council will agree to this?”

The Prince waved his hand dismissively, “I really don’t care whether they do or not. If it’s slid in under something about money and we make them feel like they won some vague victory they’ll never notice until it’s done anyway.” Men who could be bought were the easiest to manipulate. It felt wrong to plot this way, but it was more alarming to realise that some such men _did_ sit on the council. For now it was safer to keep them where he could see them.

“Thank you.” Merlin’s gratitude was almost lost in the shocked tone he couldn't hide.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Please don’t thank me for meeting the bare minimum for human decency Merlin. It embarrasses us both.”

His servant-warlock shrugged, “Hey, you’re a prince. Meeting a bare minimum for human decency is already putting you as the best of the lot.”

“Am I less of a royal ass now?” Arthur folded his arms across his chest, and Merlin pretended to consider it, “Well, your ass is bigger, so no. Maybe a less of a prat though.”

“Merlin! I am not fat!”

His _servant_ smirked, “I said you had a _generous_ arse, how is that the same as fat? I’m sure it very-um- muscular?”   
“You’ve been _looking?”_ Arthur turned an odd colour.

“No. Just at an unfortunate height when you are mounting- _horses, dammit._ Bloody Gwaine. He gets in your head. I do your mending anyway, I know what splits, you don’t fool me.”

Arthur’s outrage faded, replaced by a look of bemusement. “Mending. By hand.”

“Yeeeees, how else would I do it sire?”

The prince threw up his hands in exasperation, “Oh I don’t know, maybe with the very illegal thing that you can apparently use for most activities and purposes.”  
“But mending, Arthur? That would be such a _boring_ thing to be executed for. I only ever did that when there was too much to do or a nefarious plot to foil. I mean if it was a toss-up between finishing chores, and stopping an assassin, I’d cheat on the chores and end the threat, but otherwise I usually prefer to do them ‘normally’. Mum never let me cheat either. All the big stuff is for saving lives, and muscle wastage sucks.”

 “And by ‘end the threat’ you mean?”

 Merlin’s voice came out brittle, “What would you do to stop an assassin, or a sorceress bent on vengeance who wouldn’t listen to reason? How do _you_ end threats to your kin and kingdom Arthur?”

It was the answer he was expecting but Arthur still grimaced, “Next time tell me. If we coordinate things it’ll be less risky. You’re no good to me if they execute you for defending us with magic. What did you do with the bodies that you haven’t been caught yet?”

Well that was awkward.

“Uhn, different things. Often final confrontations weren’t within castle walls so no one noticed, I’m  the physicians apprentice so it wasn’t so suspicious to see me with or next to any body- and I swear I use that to _save_ people more than anything, it’s just a coincidental advantage. Traders do sometimes come to the city for the market, and some of my opponents were not human. Others fell in open combat, and if that was on patrols and such, knights made assumptions so no questions were asked.”

Arthur nodded somberly, he’d made enough of those assumptions. “What does non human mean?”

Merlin sighed, looking away from the prince’s gaze or he’d hold back, “Exactly that. There are many different creatures in Albion, and beyond Arthur. The Sidhe have tried twice to get rid of you, Katrina the troll, there are pixies, and faye circles, wisps- those are extremely rare- the chimera type species, the dragons- those are all sentient of course, there’s plenty purely animalistic. Many I don’t know and haven’t seen, others I have. Most species don’t seem to care about human affairs if we stay out of theirs. Some _really do_. Uther attracted a lot of attention fucking around with the natural magic, trying to drain it, he poisoned the land and the water, made a lot of enemies in nature and abroad. It made _this place_ draw things in that were more instinct than higher thought with the hordes of magical items and relics….and spilled blood. Kilgarrah and Morgana- and then me I guess- stand out like a beacon. Some non humans don’t leave bodies the way humans do Arthur.”

Arthur nodded seriously, “But dragonlords do. So we will find out what you must do. What about yourself Merlin. Which are you?” He asked in a soft voice, head tilting.

It was almost a cruel question, but it was one that did need an answer after so much deception from so many people. Ironically Merlin wasn’t the one who had been most dishonest, despite living as half of himself and lying about everything to do with that one specific issue.

He’d been just as badly manipulated as Arthur had. The prince hoped _this_ would give him some closure about Balinor and the losses there.

“I don’t know.” Merlin voice was almost too quiet to hear, but it did not waver. “I _feel_ human. I don’t _think_ or _feel_ differently as far as I can tell, but a Warlock is not a sorcerer, and a ‘creature of the old religion’ is not a reassuring term. If I gave you the answer I _feel_ and _want_ to be the truth, I might be later shown to be wrong. Destiny seems to have a personal grudge against me.”

 

“Fuck destiny. Human until further notice then, and fair warning that we might be wrong.” Growled the Prince.

Merlin cocked an eyebrow at his words, “Did someone bring you bad ale Arthur?”

His oblivious “No, why?” was almost believable.

“No reason. Just checking sire.”

 

Looking Merlin over and noting the familiar stiffness of movement Arthur nodded his satisfaction, “I’m rather glad I kept those old knives now.” he mused. “Has Gwaine shown you the rest yet?”

“The rest Arthur? What rest.”

Arthur smiled widely. “That’s a no then. You can’t have _only_ long knives, there should be sufficient to cover your non magical requirements. Anyway, speaking to Sir Percival was certainly interesting. He is under orders to answer any questions you may have about the druids. You know about his family, didn’t you.”

Merlin shrugged, it was difficult sitting with Arthur this way, he could usually potter about sorting things. They never sat as equals to talk, at least not in the castle, and it felt unnatural to do so. “Not for long. He told me about her, I told him about someone _I_ lost.”

“Will you tell _me.”_

Merlin sighed. “Arthur, you _really_ don’t want that to be the next thing I tell you, it’s not a pretty story, and there is no happy ending.”

“No. There usually isn’t in tales like ours, but it doesn’t make the story less important. I’ll accept one denial _tonight_ if you agree to tell me when we go hunting at the end of the week. If you won’t explain _that_ , at least tell me something.”

 

“Like what?”

“Something that isn’t life changing, or something _good.”_   
Merlin thought, trying to reach for something,“I met Isildur today, unexpectedly.”   
“Who is he?”

“The leader of a druid clan, you’ve met them before in less favourable circumstances, he is willing to speak to you and answer questions if you go unarmed?”

“Merlin, I don’t go _anywhere_ unarmed.”

“Then you will lose a valuable opportunity to speak with them sire. Arthur, you _attacked_ his clan looking for Morgana when she chose to go to them for answers I should have given her.”

“Could you have helped her?”  
“Then? Not really, but she wouldn’t have felt so alone.”

Arthur shook his head “Then she would have had to seek them out anyway, unless _Gaius_  had made different choices. If that is the case then I understand their insistence. Can you guarantee they will not attack me? To do so would bring down my father’s wrath even if I understand their motivation.”

His servant chose his words carefully, he really _was_ trying to be as honest as he could now. “I can guarantee your _safety_. Even if they did they couldn’t hurt you, I would never let them.”

Arthur sighed, Merlin was right, and any group close to Camelot was likely to have similar stories, “Alright, set it up. I will need to take someone this time though.”

“I wasn’t out alone, Gwaine has met him and passed through the wards, He’d be a wise choice to take along, with a second. No more or they’ll spook and won’t meet with us together.”

 

“I’ll consider it. Leon owes them a life debt but he is not yet aware of all of the details I’d have to disclose. Sir Percival is at ease with them from his wife’s family. Lancelot would be courteous and perhaps less intimidating.”

“If you don’t mind a suggestion sire?” Arthur waved a hand for Emrys to continue,

“Go ahead.”

  
“Take Percy. He has missed them, and he has suffered the same loss in this conflict, his family through his wife died for Uther’s hatred. If they see that such a man is willing to serve directly under _you_ without anger, and trusts your word it will ease some of their doubts. _My_ forgiveness and trust is less influential in some ways than his. I am Merlin to you, and to myself, but to them we’re figures of prophecy and legend who are tightly bound. It’s destined and I don’t _really_ have a choice. Perce does and they know it.”

“Your forgiveness?”  
“It’s complicated. We’ve both hurt each other unintentionally over the past few years, and yes, I’ll answer your questions when you know what they are and there is space to shout without being overheard. Percival isn’t the only one to have lost people, and Balinor and Will weren’t the only ones.”   
Arthur winced, he’d forgotten about Will. “He wasn’t the one in Ealdor to make the wind, was he.”

  
“No Arthur. He wasn’t. I tried to tell you about my magic and it’s use that day but then you said at his pyre magic was dangerous and not to be trusted, and I knew you weren’t ready. I’d have been banished and you’d have been left undefended.”

The Prince frowned, something was wrong, “How did I forget that Merlin. Until you mentioned him I forgot what happened that day, That’s _wrong,_ it’s hard to think about, clouded as though I’m not supposed to remember. Did you do something to my memory?”

“Gods no! No Arthur. Certainly not intentionally, I can check that there’s nothing accidental if you want. That’s _worrying_ though, you shouldn’t have anomalies like that, especially such _specific_ ones. Perhaps it explains why Morgana hasn’t gone straight for Mum though.”

“Do you want Hunith in Camelot? I could easily arrange a home for her.” Merlin huffed and shook his head, “No, I’ve asked. She won’t come. I understand why better now. These walls are haunted for her Arthur, not by actual spirits but by memory and loss, and honestly I’d be less focused during attacks trying to defend more than you if she was in the same place. I’ll reconsider it if Gaius’ health worsens further, but she’d be an obvious pressure point, and some survivors of the Purge might recognise her. I’m hard to kill, but Mum isn’t.”

 “You’re not invincible Merlin. I don’t know how you hide them so often but I’ve seen some of the damage when you need a healer or had to bathe on campaign.”  
“Yeah. That would be with magic Arthur. Folk seeing them would mean questions about how I acquired them, and a simple servant should not really bear such marks. Plus, I might not be vain, but it doesn’t mean I want to have my whole life on display, you only get a scar if they land a hit.” He flashed Arthur a sly smile and wink, knowing exactly how many scars _he_ had after helping the man bathe, dress, and treating his injuries over the years at his side.

“Shut up Merlin.” His friend chuckled back.

“You’ve got a point though. How often _does_ that happen?”

“Not that often. Besides I’m more careful these days and I _do_ try not to be captured, I’d have a lot fewer if the magic didn’t have to remain secret though. Most magical or solo fights I’m unmarked, and most of the marks I _do_ get don’t scar.”

  
“That is deeply concerning given that you have plenty, not that I’ve ever seen details, you’re always too quick when it’s not hidden to get more than confirmation they exist.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and shoved the grim sounding prince, “Don’t be such a girl Arthur. It’s not like I’m missing a limb or something.”

 “No, but you _have_ turned up with open wounds and fractures without telling me, and reopening them makes recovery time longer and is risky on patrol, concern about chinks in our defence isn’t girlish. I don’t want you to end up _actually_ missing a limb because a healing wound slows you down. Or anyone else.”

  
Merlin glowered, “That bastard. He _told you?”_

 “What? Who? No one _told me_ Merlin, you bled through your shirts a few times and I started paying better attention.” Arthur looked slightly sick, which was weird given how much blood he’d seen in all kinds of scenarios.

 

“Oh. _Oh!_ Is that why I’m being tortured with training?”

“Hell no, that, and your misery, are just bonuses. No more hiding proper wounds though. Not things like these aches, but real injuries. This you complain about. Never the serious things, and that has to be switched around. I can’t expect men to follow me and inform me of wounds if the example of the one who serves me personally appears to think they can’t admit to needing medical care. If you won’t for yourself, do it to prevent an inexperienced knight doing something stupid.”

“Knights do stupid shit all the time anyway.” Merlin’s opinion on that had never wavered, he’s seen them on and off duty. At _least_ half the knights were complete idiots, but the prince did have a point about showing an example.

“Says the super-powerful Warlock hidden in the household of the Prince of Camelot.”

“Fine. At least _my_ stupid decisions make sense.”   
Arthur made a disgusted noise in his throat, “They really, really don’t Merlin.”   
“Some do. Most, given I haven’t exactly had many options until very recently.”   
The prince frowned, acknowledging the truth of that, “True. Just try and remember that things _have_ changed.”   
“Yeah. Hard not to. My home isn’t home, my job changed, you know, my family is not what I thought, and-”

“Here, drink.” A cup of something heady and sweet smelling was pushed at him before Merlin could get any more wound up.

“Arthur I really can’t get drunk with you, tempting as it is tonight. Gwen would not be amused if I turn up at her door hammered.”

 

“No, no she would not. Why are you going to Guinivere’s so late anyway?”

Merlin looked at him oddly, “Because she doesn’t trust me for correct measurements and demands I let her take them herself. Apparently some prat sent her a message that means she needs them.”  
“Intelligent woman. Alright.” Arthur sighed. “I need a bath, organise one for me, and warm the bed, I don’t have to dine with Father tonight, but I must do tomorrow.”   
“It’s very late to _begin_ to organise a proper bath Sire.”

“Merlin. This once you have my full permission to _cheat_ , it has been a very difficult few days for both of us. Gwaine also has oil that is good for abused muscles by the way.”   
“Yes Arthur. I make it. You _all_ have that, and some have more questionable types that _I also have to make.”_

Arthur rolled his eyes. “He has it for _you_ to use, Idiot, if you ask nicely he might even apply it properly for you. It’s hard to _relax_ a muscle whilst contorting to reach it with the liniment.”

Merlin blushed, Arthur wasn't exaggerating, he’d done _that_ enough times but never had anyone to help.

“Don’t look like such a blushing maiden _Merlin_. You stiffening up for the sake of misplaced dignity- which you don’t have enough left of to lose in my eyes or Gwaine’s- serves no one’s interests. Didn’t have you down as a prude.”   
Merlin rolled his shoulders and pouted, offended. “I’m not, I’m just a little… self conscious. My back didn’t heal well from _all_ of the damage and concealing it without physically altering my body won’t hide anything if someone has their _hands on my skin.”_

Arthur looked at Merlin, noting his concern was real, _“_ Who is he going to tell? Really. Gwaine may be indiscreet about many of his liaisons, but you and I _both know_ he plays for both teams and has he ever mentioned a _man_ by name, let alone features of those men? If you won’t let _him_ then speak to Sirs Lancelot or Percival. The noble knights use squires to do it, you’ve never spoken of anything personal after attending _me_. Except to my face.”   
“Fine. If it’ll stop the pair of you nagging me like harpies. I’ll do it. Just don’t mention it again.” He’d go to Gwaine for sure, Lance would ask too many questions, and Percival didn’t know who he was yet. As a druid widower he might guess too much too soon with something like this.

 

Arthur opted for the method of distraction, “Any other news?”  
“Lachlan- the sarcastic ghost- has some idea about the vaults, and something he wants to show me after I leave Gwen’s. It might be a late night.”   
Arthur leaned forward, narrowing his eyes, “Try and get enough rest for training tomorrow, and Merlin, I will check you are being obedient. Now where’s my bath?”   
The warlock looked at him quizzically, “You were serious about that?”   
“Deadly. Just remember to lock the door.”

Merlin’s eyes flashed. “Done Sire.”

 Standing and stretching slowly he walked over to the large tub that he stored in the side room Merlin was _supposed to_ sleep in and dragged it through to the usual place. Holding his hands over the bath he spoke the proper spell to summon water to fill the tub, and another to heat it without boiling. Taking out the mix of dried herbs Arthur preferred he sprinkled them in the water as the prince observed silently. “That is a lot easier than servants lugging buckets from the courtyard.”   
“Well yes, but if you kept having baths and I didn’t do the work it would be very noticeable. At least among the servants, most are observant than the nobles- who never watch us- survival skills y’know? I may as well wear a sign. ‘Magical Merlin, please burn me.’”

“You almost do anyway, now that I know what to look for. Please don’t start to though. I don't fancy breaking in a new servant. Or warlock.”

Merlin smiled at the open acknowledgement of what he was, the flinch gone. “I can get away with it as a one off. Go on, get in.” The prospect of his visit to Gwen seemed more daunting the closer it got, and performing non-essential magic in front of Arthur was both thrilling and terrifying.

Arthur noticed him fidgeting and rolled his eyes. “Have one goblet of something decent before you go Merlin, I can get washed myself while you do. It’s still better than help _with_ brass jokes.”   
Merlin grimaced, vividly recalling his ‘lessons’ with boring George, “A night in the cells is better than brass jokes.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“You can tell him to shut up and he listens, I can't.”

“You can stop him speaking at all. I think.”

“Yeah. Excellent plan sire, except for the part where I am outed as a warlock, and scare a bunch of people whose only real crime is being unutterably dull.”

“All of the brightness resides in the polished bronze, the metal is draining it from him. I could make being so boring a crime. If you wanted. It would solve the problem of the council.”

“No more wine for you tonight Arthur. That's a terrible plan. I sympathise with it, but it's a terrible idea.”  Merlin laughed at his friend, who clearly hadn't slept properly for days.

“Fine. Are you keeping this water hot? It usually cools down.”

“Only while you are in it.”

“Good. It’s much harder to get out of a hot bath than cold though, there may be flaws in the system of granting me divine baths.”

“Mmm. In future I will set up a time limit then. Who is a suitable person to take with me tonight? Gwen asked me to bring a second person to avoid rumours.”

“Wise of her. If she was any other girl I would suggest Sir Lancelot. For her it would not ease rumours. Gwaine has a certain _reputation_. Leon is a good choice but it is an odd request and I don’t fancy the questions in the morning. Elyan gets… paranoid about men visiting his sister. Percival is best I think for this specific task. He has no history with the Lady, nor a reputation as a slut.”

Merlin snorted, “That's mean.”

“Is it unfounded?” Arthur arched a brow at his servant.

“Well no, Gwaine totally is, but most people use euphemisms.”

“I am the Prince. I do not need to be delicate to my Knight.”

“Sir Percy it is then. What does he know?”

“That I seek peace and intend to ultimately legalise magic, quickly moving to lighten any penalties, I do not want the executions to continue. He knows that I have come to understand that magic is not intrinsically evil, and this room is shielded by that force. He doesn't know about coins or that you are Emrys unless you have informed him.”

“I’m not in a hurry to do that as he has stayed with the druids and doubtless has heard their stories.”

Huh. Arthur hadn’t thought of that, it leant a different significance to some of his questions, but Merlin wasn’t looking like he could handle that tonight, they probably had a few days before it mattered.

 

Merlin banked the fire and waited until Arthur clambered out of the bath and handed him the towel, laying a sleeping tunic and trousers on the bed, he considered placing the warming brick between the sheets before turning to face the Prince. “Arthur, do you mind me warming the bed with _It?_ The distribution is better than with the brick or any water bottle. More effective.”

He nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll try it, but if you’re wrong then tomorrow I will want to use the way we always have.”

“Of course sire, thanks for giving it a chance.” He wasn’t going to take any of the concessions for subtle use for granted.

“You may go Merlin, Emrys has a busy night ahead, and you still have work and training in the morning.”

“And potion and salve making and deliveries.”

“Doesn’t Gaius do most of that?”

“A lot of them, but he can’t exactly make them if the ingredients aren’t prepared and processed, flames need supervised, others need ground down properly, or heavy lifting for larger batches, it’s hard on an old body. Honestly there are some of the things he can’t do effectively himself, though the actual _making_ is usually ok- as long as he gets enough rest. Ingredients can be too expensive to waste, or hard to get. The physicians craft is not a simple one, it takes years for a reason, same as training as a knight does.”

“I don’t think I ever appreciated the number of steps that goes into making a single remedy before.”

“Nope, almost certainly not sire.” Merlin called cheerfully, non craft masters or apprentices never did. He understood, even as a farmer he wouldn’t have _known_ as he did now. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, they simply never had to think about it.

Arthur slipped on his nightclothes and sat down at his desk, Lord Geoffrey had left him some of the _old_ laws to govern appropriate use of magic, he wanted to read through them before discussing it with Merlin later. He wanted to know how extensive the common usage had been before the Purge first, before discussing the future possibilities, and to question Lord Geoffrey and possibly Gaius. “You’re dismissed for the night Merlin. Good luck, cooperate with Guinivere and things will be smoother for you. I don’t have to warn you to be careful in the vaults, but you’re forgetting something.”

Merlin’s confusion was painfully obvious and Arthur rolled his eyes. “The _key_ Merlin? It’s on my ring. It’s less obvious and quicker.”

It wasn’t quicker actually, but the Prince’s offer still stunned the man, “Are you sure Sire?”

Arthur groaned, honestly his servant was ridiculously irritating at times, like now. “Very, Merlin. Take the damn key, just remember to bring it back and _don’t lose it._ You don’t have to break in to everything anymore.”

“Thanks Arthur.”

He left the Prince muttering about idiot manservants trying to do everything the hard way.

 Stopping by the knight’s quarters after work was becoming something of a habit so his presence went almost unnoticed but for Leon greeting him brightly as their paths crossed. He knocked on Percival’s door “Percy? You in there mate?” _Please be in there._ He really didn’t want to resort to Leon.

“Aye Merlin?” Came from inside the chamber.

“You need something? Gwaine isn’t here right now, he’s on duty tonight.” Of course he was. Arthur must have known. “Actually, I was looking for you. Do you have time to play honourable escort, it won’t be long, just a quick visit to Gwen, Arthur’s request but she’s still having to be cautious in front of the nobles.”

“Sure, do you know why?”

“No, although I’m fairly sure it’s nothing good. She wants to measure me. That woman is the best seamstress in Camelot, but I’ve never seen her make anything simple and meant to go unnoticed. Morgana’s old dresses were something else.”

“Uhuh. Just the dresses?”

“Shut up. She wasn’t always a power crazed, homicidal psychopath; yeah, back then her _in_ the dress was something to behold. ‘Course then she betrayed Camelot, killed a bunch of innocents, tried to kill Arthur so I think we can safely say she is not going to be wearing any more of Gwen’s elaborate creations.”

“And took up magic.”  
“What’s your point? You’re not that ignorant Percy. She was always a witch and Seer, she’d no choice and it’s not evil.” Merlin shook his head sadly.

“Good. Glad to hear another sensible reaction in Camelot.” Percy smiled softly, puzzled when Merlin frowned, “I’m not exactly neutral on the subject Perce, and I wasn’t born in Camelot, though the persecution didn’t respect the borders.”

“Soo, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Arthur’s _very soundproof_ chambers would you?”   
“I’ll let you draw your own conclusions Sir Percival.” Merlin leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. He was done hiding from the people who mattered. At least the ones who were safe.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get to Lady Gwen’s before it’s too late to pass off as innocent.”

Merlin grinned as they left, locking Percy’s door behind them in case Gwaine came home in a mischievous mood. “Don’t let her cut my hair.”

“Um- I feel like there’s a story behind this request.” Percival glanced over at his friend whose eyes widened in remembered horror. “And I shall never share it with you. Only warn you to never get drunk with Gwen. Ever.” Merlin shuddered. When they had both been servants they had been equals to each other, slightly removed from the others by proximity to the ruling family, but ultimately both holding ‘just a servant’ rank to their mistress and master, however flexible the pair had been. Other than Arthur, Gwen had been his closest friend in Camelot once, and one of the few who he ever _had_ indulged with, leaving her with more than a fair share of ‘stories’.

“Noted.” replied Percival. Unlike Gwaine and Lancelot, he had only ever known her as ‘Lady Guinivere’. Not ‘sweet, gentle Gwen’. Anyone who thought of her as _only_ that had never seen her in a smithy or wielding a sword. _He had._ So had Arthur, and Merlin wondered how long he had really been watching the maid out of the corner of his eye.

 

He knew the way to her chamber without having to think by now, despite rarely _visiting;_ she was responsible for a lot of the king’s care and so also for his simpler medicines, which Merlin delivered and often explained the application and purpose of. Gwen knew him too well to believe the ‘grave mental disease’ nonsense and had questioned on more than one occasion why he didn’t challenge it. He couldn’t exactly _explain_ and it had led to her taking more notice of his restraint and closed off side, the secrecy,  and ultimately those contributed to their growing apart almost as much as her change in status had. She was still _friendly_ , just not like before.

Hers was a reaction he actually feared seeing. He’d told her that first day he was in disguise, that he protected Arthur; actually he’d lied to her less than most of them, but she’d always laughed or shrugged it off. Gwen had been witness to Morgana’s dreams and his nightly deliveries of sleeping aids.

“You ok mate? You’re awful quiet.” Merlin raised a brow at the giant next to him, who rarely spoke more than three words together and saw him smile. “For you.” He kept his voice low enough not to be overheard and Merlin responded in kind.

“Just had a lot on my mind recently. Nothing for you to worry about Perce.”

The knight mock glared at him, “Tough. If I want to worry about my friends you can’t stop me.”

Merlin snorted softly, “I could.”

Percival nodded calmly, “Interesting. Never heard that from anyone but Dana before.”

Merlin looked away, hurriedly casting a muting spell to stop anyone overhearing _anything_ , hoping the flash in his eyes wasn’t too obvious. “Ask when we aren’t in the city, let alone the castle, and I’ll answer your questions. The important ones anyway.”

“You already did mate.”

“No I didn’t.” Growled the warlock.

Percival’s lips quirked upwards, “Yeah. You really did. You are loyal to Arthur, protect your friends, and have saved many lives, with _all_ your skills; and you’re no fool. Now man up and face the scary Lady’s measuring tape you idiot.”

“It’s torture Merlin day again, isn’t it.”

The knight chuckled, “No, but that sounds like a very popular idea, I’ll suggest it at the next round table meeting.”

Merlin gave him a strange look. “Might want to wait Perce, that’s going to be a fucking busy meeting.”

“Good to know.”

They stopped outside Gwen’s door and knocked.

“Don’t believe the innocent look in her eyes Percy, don’t let her get your soul.”

Gwen opened the door and looked at him the same way his mother used to when he put off a chore, pointing to her chambers and smirking. “Hello Merlin.”

“Gwen.” He groaned as her face lit up with glee at his obvious discomfort seeing her snap the measuring tape. “No, don’t be _that_ Gwen, please? I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You told Sir Percival not to let me get his _soul.”_

“In a good way.”  
“What good way is that?”   
“Did I mention that you are looking very pretty today my Lady?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Yes Merlin, I am, that’s not the answer, you know the rules.”

“I am sorry milady for denigrating your ever so generous offer of help, the flowers’ll have to wait for tomorrow, can’t get ‘em at night.”

“That’s better.” She winked at Percival.   
“Yes Ma’am.” but Merlin smiled at her, turning to Percy, “Ladies are not supposed to go and gather their own flowers, stupid rule, hers were always the nicest, I only get called a girl. Or variations thereof. Stupid really, Gwen’s hardly the only good Lady to enjoy having something bright around.”

“Stand still, stop fidgeting and we’ll be done much faster.”

Merlin obeyed cautiously, holding himself still.

“There, all done. I’ll tell Prince Arthur when the things are ready. Don’t look so horrified Merlin, I promise you not to add any bows or frills. Nothing like that ridiculous orange ‘servants uniform’ handmaid’s honour.”

“I’ll hold you to that Gwen.” He turned to the knight who was watching them in amusement.  “Thank you Percival for providing an assurance to other nosey bints that I was not here for some clumsy attempt at seduction.”

Gwen stepped forward and hugged him, “Thank you Sir Percival, it was indeed kind of you. If you will excuse me it’s late, and I do need some sleep, I always wake early. Goodnight both of you.” She smiled at them and the men went on their way. “Well that was simple; and I still have my soul. What happened between you?”

“It’s complicated. Complicated, long, and littered with misunderstandings. Gwen’s a lovely woman, but I haven’t made her life easier and she sometimes finds Arthur a sore spot… and Lancelot… and Morgana.”  
“Ah. I take it her status changing when yours did not despite being far more vital to retaking Camelot didn’t help things.”

Merlin frowned, he didn’t particularly _want_ his place to change, he wasn’t happy about the lack of choice he had in that inevitability either, “No, but _that_ at least wasn’t due to either of us.”

“You wanting any company tonight mate?” Percival looked unduly concerned and Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Nah, I’ve got more to do before I can think about bed, not enough hours in my day to do everything that needs done.”

Percy nodded but laid a hand on his shoulders just before they reached the knights quarters where their paths split, “If you ever do, you know where to find me. Or Gwaine. You don’t have to talk, but don’t try to carry the weight of a world alone needlessly.”

“And they call _me_ emotional.” Merlin tilted his head meeting Percy’s piercing gaze to see the sincerity there. “Thanks Percy, I’ll bear it in mind for the future, I’ve someone waiting for me, but see you at training?”

“Sure Merlin. Be careful.”

“Amn’t I always?” Merlin spread his hands wide.


	36. Chapter 36

Merlin strode in the direction of the vaults then, more confidently than he usually would. He knew the guards schedules and patrol routes without thinking about it, ducking when it was required, pausing in the shadows when a guard was due to pass by. _This_ time, for the _first_ time he had permission to be there, it was actually fully sanctioned by the Prince. A reality that he hadn’t particularly expected until he had somehow proven that he didn’t intend to launch a takeover bid. Certainly not _so soon._

The iron key felt heavy in his pocket as Merlin snuck out of the passages which had been forgotten by all but a few.

It’s weight was a reassuring reminder that he hadn’t just imagined the acceptance or command, but he decided using magic would be quieter. The spells for breaking in to anything were so familiar by now they needed no words.

Closing the door behind him Merlin lit the candles, no one would be fool enough to enter here without authorisation of the king. Except himself. Or maybe corrupt priestesses.

Turning to the right he almost leapt out of his skin as he came face to face with Lachlan; the whole situation suddenly seemed a lot more macabre in the eerie atmosphere of Camelot’s dark places. Not for the first time in the vaults Merlin felt more like he was walking through a tomb than a cellar.

“That does not get less creepy, no matter how many times you appear inches from my face. You sounded as though there was something important when you sought me out earlier; what do you have to show me?”

 “There is, remember Merlin, this chaotic horde and its consequences are not solvable in one night. Consider this a belated introductory tour. Avoid any and all mirrors. Some may be harmless, others may still be linked or active, but that is not what I wish to show you. _Do not_ look at the crystals, I do not wish to lose your awareness and attention with no one in here to break through a trance.

I spent most of the day down here, and it seems that the deeper you go the closer it is to the beginning of the Purge, I recognise some items and sacred objects that I can match to a date and a friend. Collections and stolen artefacts closest to the beginning of the deposits - so furthest from any entry points - are the best organised. Reasonable as there was still enough knowledge left in the early stages to categorise them correctly. Ish. Later on, as you edge closer to the entrance they get less coherent, placed without rhyme and reason as the understanding was evidently lost. Dragonlords were early in the massacres, what was stolen from us is semi-sensibly placed. Not far from a torc that you need and a staff which is yours, or will be, safest to wait a little longer to retrieve _that_ , until you intend to face the council under the full moon.  The single Catha item I have seen is further in and should not be touched before they formally confirm you. Just in case. Don’t fall into the pit coming up, and dodge the axe- good- now slow your breathing, no panicking or broadcasting alarm, that gives away surprise and the vault reacts to a probable intrusion. Right, not left, the passage that way is collapsed. Seems to be an unnatural rockfall but I’ve no idea what it’s protecting.”

He turned sharply, even remembering this time that Merlin required a door instead of just walking clean through walls.

He really should look into whether the _was_ a spell for that, thought the warlock, it would be a pretty obvious one to create so theoretically he could _find_ one if he looked in the correct place.  “Ah, there.” Exclaimed the ex-dragonlord, drawing his attention back to their actual purpose, “This was mine, a long time ago. You should have been given your own, with your father’s crest but where he hid that I don’t know and you ought to at least have proper attire. It's not magic exactly, just useful. Made only for our kin. This one isn’t short enough for some of your high stakes games, but it’ll keep the wind and hail off; gauntlets are yours too. Dragons _hated_ metal ones even if they can't actually cut scales. Worse for human hands too, even if we don't burn normally,  those types can heat up when magic passes through the metal; if we didn’t notice others tended to sustain avoidable injuries.

Leather or suede are preferred by our kin. We never did manage to convince the magicless knights of the drawbacks of metal…” Lachlan grimaced at the memory of bickering.

Merlin rolled his eyes, he knew _that_ feeling. “Knights are idiots; and they do seem to have a bit of a steel fetish. Are you _sure_ Lachlan. Isn’t there-” Merlin cut off. Of course there wasn’t someone else he’d rather give it to, Merlin was the _only_ dragonlord. The _last_ dragon Lord.  He lowered his tone, “Thank you, Sir. It would be my privilege.”

“Ach, don’t. Really. Would have gone to my eldest son, as your father’s should go to you. Now I have no sons, and you have no father.  For our people to take back what Uther stripped brings me some comfort.”

Merlin nodded, swallowing. As much as he wished he did not, he understood. The dragonlord would rather it burned than remained here as a trophy for Uther, but like the dragonlords, this was made to fly.  “It'll see the sky again. Might even make Kilgarrah smile, or noble arses stop nagging me for my state of dress.” Merlin stepped up to the frame supporting the jacket, pulling out all of the laces and realising the thing had a lot more weight in than it initially appeared to. Next to it were the matching gauntlets. Almost as nice as some of Arthur's hunting leather.

 “It’s stained dark. Are- were they all like that?” Merlin asked, wondering if it was common even then to fly at night.

**“** Mostly. Depended on the colours of the dragon you were closest to and the symbols of your House. Most often they were similar to the hide of whichever dragon you were closest to. This should work reasonably well with Kilgarrah.”

Merlin nodded, tracing long fingers in the candlelight over the intricate designs on the coat that was somehow elegant _and_ tough. “What was mine?”

“I can't draw. Your family were the first, the oldest Dragonlords we know of, your House was _first_ ranked; it reflects that. The Druids can show you. Just ask. Don’t run from it.”

 Merlin closed his eyes. “Sure. Anything else I should know about?”

“Yes. The High Priest’s ring is further in, and there is a blood spell set up next to the corresponding sacrificial knife taken from a priestess. Don't go near it until you have slept and have a spare day. Don’t approach or disturb it in any way until you have identified it. _That_ has been set for a very long time., a few days will not make a difference.”

Merlin blew out a measured breath. That was _very mixed_ news. “Do we know who might be responsible for something so serious?”

Blood spells were always strong, usually complex, and tended to involve dark magic, which he didn’t want to be interfering with on his first _known_ visit down there. Despite the problems they had found, the lack of injury this time was a definite advantage over any of his previous visits.

“I have suspicions but nothing confirmed. I had no idea this was down here until today. The priestesses are gone, but for two. All of their bloodlines ended- or at least _they_ believed so. You don't have the experience to solve this _properly_ alone so don’t try, use the resources at hand. It does not appear to be harming Arthur though, whatever the intended purpose. The catacombs continue and I will go further tomorrow, but there _are ways_ of capturing spirits -as you well know from Sigan.

Couldn't take the risk of going into the more dangerous places without reporting back first, Emrys. Nothing here is beyond your _skill_ to use, but some should not be touched, and the priestesses sometimes added spells to _Discourage_ men from contaminating particular sacred items. Not unfairly, but really, look and don't touch unless you're willing to spend a long time singing soprano.”

 

Merlin instinctively winced, “Yeah, I get why you that would be an effective deterrent. Only a mistake you'd have to see made once to get the point. Morgana would be proud. OK then. Lots to think about. Much, much more than I was hoping for… and also more of an heirloom than I ever expected to have. Thank you for helping me; and for the rest.”

Lachlan bowed slightly, he'd watched long enough to develop a healthy respect for Emrys lowering his guard.

“I'd give you a sword but we uh- we didn't bring them into Camelot that time if the blade had been bathed in dragonfire, but for one; there was a late warning, and it's a fucking godsend that we didn't.

An armed squad of trained knights with those weapons would have razed the kingdom. When Uther realised it was magic he threw it in a mass grave. It should remain there for eternity. That must _never_ be found.” He sighed, a lingering habit from his human life that not breathing hadn't seemed to change.

“Go home Merlin. You need to think and you can't do that here. I'm not about to disappear on you. Eileen has Uther handled for the night, he's not going to be looking for you at dinner tomorrow.”

 Merlin pressed his lips together, almost visibly receding into the non-threatening servant part of himself,  “Any idea what she plans?”

Lachlan shook his head,“Not a clue. She looked angry though, so whatever it is I am glad she's not messing with _me._ You know some cultures have female warriors? Not here, but in the North they do, and in Dalraida. Right at the edge of the world, where the sun's heat can barely reach they ride to battle. Our not having them is a mistake; I think that they make more efficient fighters. If a man had looked at me with the same expression _she_ was wearing tonight, I would have surrendered or fallen on the mercy of a sword. Eileen's uncle was a keeper of books, he told her stories from the crib, trust me, she has plenty of material to draw on with you occupied.”

 The man cringed, remembering Arthur’s fight with Morgause, “Eesh. Nope, never going to underestimate based on the fact an enemy is female. In my experience they are the most deadly.”

“Irrelevant.” Growled the ghost, “Anyone can kill. Uther’s men were more than enough with our magic subdued.”

Running his hand through his hair, Merlin sighed, “I know. You're right. I have to think about it all, calmly and rationally. Looks and feels like a trap but it's _old._ _Gods_ I want to tear this apart, and if I _do_ without identifying it first the breaking could kill them.”

Lachlan snorted, “You are in Camelot kid, good luck finding calm and rationality. We could make a fortune selling _that_ on the black market. I'm very glad to see some forethought, you really have come on.” The warlock wished it wasn't true; and that his lessons had brought less pain to himself and to others.

“This time I know I'll be able to return to fix it properly, and not have my absence cause problems. ‘Night Lachlan.”

“Goodnight Emrys.”

 

As much as it felt unnatural to rush out of such a place Merlin tried - he could _feel_ it, all the different magics, some tingly, others passionate, and a couple clawing at him making it harder to concentrate. It was getting foggier when he felt another presence intrude and provide an anchor, the familiarity drowning out the other magical distractions. _“Go Home Young Warlock. We will speak soon enough, leave this place.”_

The shock worked, spurring Merlin to move faster and leave the vaults, feeling slightly overwhelmed. It hadn’t been so bad before, but maybe it was because then he he a clear goal, and a focus on _not_ being connected to music. This time the threat of execution was less. Kilgarrah must have known, having been so close to it all for so long. _“Turn off the lights.”_ Merlin blushed and snapped his fingers.

_“Thanks ‘Garrah.”_

Tempted to lean against the wall and collect himself Merlin resisted, forcing himself to move away, towards his new chamber.

It smelled different and didn't feel like home yet. How strange would everyone think it was if he started hanging herbs to dry? Pickling fish eyes.

Once he had thought that one of the greatest benefits of not living with the court physician would be the absence of the weird smells. Some were fragrant or exotic, and others were noxious or toxic. Often a bizarre mix of both competing; especially when there was a patient or three there.. As it turned out it was their very absence that reminded Merlin that his old home was no longer his own. How whatever he did during the day he would come home at night to an empty room. For so long Merlin had made a point of never considering personal details when he thought about the future, he had stopped considering a partner beside him _or_ the implications of there not being one. The reality of being _alone_ had hit him with hardly any preparation as a result, and even Merlin could appreciate that being left alone wasn’t actually good for him given the stress he lived under, and his tendency to periodically neglect self-care. Irritating as it was to be reminded by Gaius and Gwen, or Lancelot on occasion, he couldn’t call it needless. Gwaine didn’t ‘gently remind’ him to eat or pause and took a more similar approach to Gaius’ standard drugging when Merlin didn’t sleep. The room was cold when he entered, no one waiting who’d set the fire earlier or kept it going,  Not a particular problem for _him,_ as he whispered and a roaring fire sparked to life in the grate, but  a tangible and symbolic reminder that stung and made the leather suddenly feel so much heavier. Laying it on his bed Merlin sighed, stripping and lying down to try and sleep.

The dilemma of storage plagued the man and made it difficult to drift off, for one night it only really needed a glamour for concealment, but he intended to find a better storage solution- which the vaults _definitely weren’t._

 

That night his dreams were violent and disturbed, though not visions of possible futures; he woke sweat soaked with a racing heart, hoping he hadn’t been making any noise, without anyone close enough to wake him, certainly not with the door locked. A silencing spell was a priority for this room. The cortisol and adrenaline began to ebb away when he saw his preferred early-morning ghostly visitor. “Morning sunshine. No, that’s not right is it?” She frowned, “I haven’t been paying attention long.”

Merlin rolled onto his side, “I’ll take it. Better than ‘idiot’ for a welcome. Long night? I gather Lachlan is staying out of your way.”

“The last one was hard, I’m feeling better now, but he deserves a lot worse than this. I let the giant spider get Uther this time. I’m not angry at Lachlan, just didn’t want him to ask if I was ok.” 

“Fair enough. Try not to have him dream-eaten, that would kick his paranoia up further and it’s already ridiculous.”

There was a chap on his door. Merlin ignored it. The chapping didn’t stop when Merlin grumbled at it so he gave up for self preservation, pulling on loose breeches. The rest of the tower did not start work this early. “Ah fuck, who even calls on other humans at this time of day? What, what is it that can’t wait.” Unlocking the door he opened it a crack. The brick behind Gwaine began to smoulder. “What are you doing here you sadist?”

The knight ducked past him, slumping into the chair by Merlin’s desk before sliding a loaded plate and a jug, pulling a small bag out of his pocket and dropping it there.

“I'm Being diligent. Responsible and shit.”

“But... _Gwaine, the sun isn’t up yet.”_ _  
_ The knight looked at him as though he was wondering how Merlin even laced his boots alone. “No, but _you_ are, and I refuse to be the one to tell Princess I broke you or had to tie you to the saddle on the return ride. I brought food. You are going to eat it and not faint by noon. Don’t look so guilty, I’m losing maybe an hour of sleep max by staying up to force you to have breakfast. Much less than if you keeled over and Princess decided to keep me in the cells until his Merlin-Sulk finished; and you’ve got to admit there are worse ways to wake up than handsome men delivering fresh food directly to your chamber.” Gwaine grinned winningly at Merlin and got a shove and half hearted glare for his  efforts. “You got me. Can’t disagree there.” Merlin smirked at him, “But you were already beaten by a pretty girl.”

“Well played Eileen. I’ll win one of these days.” His friend called amiably to the ether.

“Good morning crazy one.”

“She uh- She says good morning.”

“She’s very polite for a ghost.” He arched an eyebrow at Merlin’s obvious hedging.

“Not everyone is as dissolute as you Gwaine.”

“Good thing too. One is enough.”

“Yeah. So why is _that one_ in my bedroom this early, cluttering it up and playing nagging wife- which doesn’t suit you by the way.”

“Told you. Making sure you don’t faint like a maiden from not eating, or trying to run on only magic for fuck knows how long; and really Merlin, at least let me be a nagging _husband_. What time _did_ you get to bed last night?” Gwaine leaned back, showing no intentions of leaving and Merlin sighed at his unruffled approach, knowing full well that the man wouldn't go now and could sleep upright.

He waved a hand at the door to relock it, noticing the reluctance of his muscles to move smoothly this morning and scowling. “No idea. It was dark.”

_There_ was the eye roll.

“Not for much longer. You might want to finish getting dressed first mate, not that I'm complaining, but it's pretty chilly and you've rounds to do. Have some bread and apple at the least though and I will vouch to Kilgarrah himself you are _trying_ to keep yourself standing.” Merlin squashed down the nerves as he turned to find fresh clothes remembering the lack of a magical mask. They did not belong here with a trusted friend anymore.

 

“As long as you don't try to lie to him you should be OK. He doesn’t like lies.” Merlin smiled as he pulled on a decent tunic and tried to remember the simplest silencing spell he knew, smiling when he found one. It would only be temporary until he could set a long term one, he whispered in the old tongue, letting the magic warm him.

 “Riiight. So. How was your thing last night?”

 “Fuck, I forgot. Thanks for the reminder. I'm in trouble with Gwen, and have to take her flowers. Percival has joined her minions.”

 Gwaine chuckled at his friend’s misfortune, “Again? How did you manage _that?_ Already?”

 "Shut up. Like you haven't been in trouble with mum before. I might have accidentally been a wee bit tactless in warning Percival… and got caught.”

 

“OK. No sympathy for you, it was a lesson you earned. If you are going to bitch about Court Ladies, _don't get caught_. If she catches you calling her ‘mum’ you're a dead man. Gaius got his meeting with me last night, so don't have concerns about that. He was the one who sent the bag of meadowsweet. I figured boiling water was probably on your list of mastered skills so only brought cold, you can heat it up quicker than the kitchens could.”

“Are you _sure_ you're a scoundrel, Sir Gwaine? I think you may be going soft, with all this chivalry; all that saving the day is going to your head.”

“Yes Merlin. I had a revelation last night. My calling is embroidery and pastry making.” He deadpanned.

“Gods Gwaine, please _never_ cook something that requires skill, and if you do, don’t torture us by trying to feed it to anyone, poison is a terrible way to go. Trust me on that.”

 Gwaine folded his arms and smiled, “Aww, it’s sweet when you worry about them. Nae fear. This is strictly a non-chivalrous act of self preservation I’ll have you know. Princess doesn’t like to share you you know.”

 Merlin made a disgusted sound at the obvious lie and ignored the jibe, “Fine. Shut up. I’m eating, I’m eating already.”

“That’s a good All powerful Warlock.” Gwaine grinned wickedly, “Oh, I also have proper oil and am supposed to force you to be sensible and have stiff muscles massaged so that training works instead of crippling you. Something about efficiency of servants. So. Since it’s a demand from the Princess, who should I send up? I would happily do it, but if you’d prefer Lance or Percy I can send them over whenever you need. Even Leon, but y’know… it might raise difficult questions.” Merlin hadn’t _really_ expected a _choice._ They were still something of a new concept for him, and it was discomfiting that Merlin being treated as Arthur’s equal seemed completely reasonable to Gwaine; even if it _was_ only in private so far.

“Uh- You I guess. You’ve seen me, it’s the shortest lecture on common sense and safety. I’ve heard Lance’s too many times already. Gets boring after the second recital. Ugh, _common_ sense? Like he's the expert and the knights have any to spare.” 

“Nope,” he agreed cheerily, “Not even a little. Except maybe Leon.”

  
“Hey, that’s unfair. Lancelot has some.” Merlin sounded offended on his friend’s behalf.

“ _Lancelot_ has been pretending he doesn’t know about a sorcerer while sharing a campfire with a Pendragon, left the free life for one bound by the rigid rules of a Noble, and attacked a city by going up against an army of the undead. Save it.”

 Merlin shot his friend a scandalised look, “Well _everything_ sounds bad when you say it like _that.”_

“Never said it was a bad thing. One of his best attributes if you ask me.” Gwaine’s expression softened. The pair had occasionally clashed over their wildly different approaches to life and philosophy, and their shared loyalty to the future king and Merlin was where they initially found a real bond.

 “One of the many reasons I never have. Go back to the part where you stated as a _fact_ that he has been pretending not to know about a sorcerer.”

 “You lot are unbelievable!”

Merlin snorted and Gwaine threw out his hands in exasperation, “No really. You are _literally unbelievable_. He has too many tells to lie safely, he’s been there when some seriously unsubtle shit went down, even if I didn’t notice _at the time._ The man has backed you on utterly atrocious excuses- you should know that we still have the ode to Arthur’s socks you claimed to be composing, drunk, at the tavern where you weren’t.”

“ _You! You complete prat! That’s where it came from!”_

Gwaine winked, “Call it the price for my silence on you never _being_ there. Lancelot worries about you more than as just a servant on patrols and quests, surrounded by good knights. He _insisted_ to the Princess- who he rarely challenges on anything- that you were the bravest of us and should have been knighted. The only ones he watches more than you individually are Lady Gwen, and the Princess… _and_ like me an’ Percival, he’s travelled outside the borders. Ran into him a couple of times in exile and someone mentioned a sorceress; the stupid man asked ‘Actual sorceress or witch?’ If he knows there’s a difference, he’s encountered someone who couldn’t choose. I only remembered it because it was a weird thing to hear from someone heading out alive from the city.” 

“I’m going to strangle him.” Merlin said very calmly.

 Gwaine smirked, “You’re already in trouble with Gwen. Strangling Sir Lancelot would be unwise mate.”

Merlin grimaced around a slice of apple “Oh goddess I _cannot_ deal with _that_ shitstorm this early.”

Gwaine nodded thoughtfully, “I take it you’ve noticed the tensions then; you got any personal opinions on that?”

The warlock grimaced, “Not that I’m willing to share, it’s very dangerous to even think about that triangle too much. It would be so much easier if Morgana hadn’t pushed her away, hardly helped mend the rift between Uther’s kids that she moved from one onto the other.” Even _Merlin_ had winced at that, and _he_ was the one most involved in facilitating it and encouraging Prince Arthur to pursue someone he actually wanted as a _person_. Arthur had been trained to reject emotion as weakness and had to consciously override that first instinct still.

Shaking his head Gwaine sighed, “Fuck, Morgana and Gwen? Are you sure?”

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know how _equal_ the devotion was, but I know exactly which ladies I delivered preventatives and emergency backups to, and the ones I didn’t- or don’t.

Those two were something of an open secret then anyway, at least among the servants, and I delivered her draughts _very early_ , and after most people were in bed. Too much was seen that cannot be unseen. If it distracted her from the visions though… Uther either wouldn’t consider it, or regarded it as an acceptable way of avoiding any almost-royal bastards. Who knows what _his_ thought processes ever were.”

 “Gaius?” The half- suggestion was _his_ first thought too but that made him feel nauseous.

 “Maybe. Sometimes. Another thing that hurts to focus on. I don’t think he had solid confirmation of MorGwena, though he knew she didn’t regularly take anything that we deliver under the label ‘women’s problems’ to stop men getting pushy or asking invasive questions.”

Gwaine stared at him, shaking his head, “Wow. The men here are idiots.”

Merlin shrugged, “I’ve not much basis for comparison, raised by mum on her own, but yeah. They _really_ are, still, it seems to work on those from foreign courts just as well.”

“And suddenly I pity the women of this city in a whole new way. So is Arthur’s love _unsuitable_ for her tastes?”

“Oh no, she definitely is uh- She told me she likes _ordinary men_ like me once,” Merlin’s lips curled wryly, “And used to watch _training_ with me when we were trailed along. She’s flexible, like you and I. Not like Edwin in the stables.” Another not-open thing shared he thought, even if it wasn’t as secret as his magic, and again Gwaine hadn’t blinked.

“Well I guess there’s that at least, and you don’t have to deliver or ease into _that_ particular news.” 

“Honestly at this rate it might be less complicated than some of what I _do_ have to discuss. If you’re not busy after supper I suppose I could do worse for company.”

“I’ll be here. First though, I have to sleep. There’s this guy I have to torture after doing _my own_ training, by order of The Princess, and since his work’s about to start It’s more’n time I found my own bed.” Gwaine winked at his friend, walking towards the door, “If my next victim’ll let me out that is.” He gestured at the lock.

“Go on you git,” Merlin dragged on a neckerchief and his jacket and unlocked the door, extinguishing all of the candles and fire as it swung open.

Securing it behind him Merlin forced his body to cooperate, abused muscles protesting every movement, the walk down to Gaius’ chambers alone had them screaming. He chapped and entered the locked room without waiting for a reply. His old mentor would assume it was him, and it was still early in the morning; Merlin wanted to build up the fire before forcing the old man to give up the warmth of any blankets. He was still bloody angry, but he was also an apprentice physician who wanted no patient to develop complications.

The hearth was cold, and the infusions set out on the desk last night were ready, but the table was not as organised as he expected, books and scrolls that ought to be hidden when _anyone_ could see them. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time Uther yelled ‘sorcery’ and tore the physicians chambers apart, and Gaius was always extremely cautious. Making the oversight unusual.

Quickly raking the fire and adding a couple of logs Merlin set it alight just as Gaius came out of his room in heavy robes. “Good morning m’b- Merlin. It’s good to see you again; I miss you, oh I know, you can’t, but still, I wanted you to know. There’s food if the ruffian didn’t catch you this morning.”

“Gwaine? Yeah, he came by, said you managed to talk to him last night, not much about it. What are these?” Merlin pointed at the very illegal pages open on the table, squinting at the barely legible script in one.  
“They are legends. Not _your unfolding_ legends with Arthur. Old ones. Things thought lost from the past I thought some might be of benefit to one or both of you. That one on the right is about your people, not much was known of the Dragonlords, and it’s hard to know how much is truth and how much myth- or indeed the result of a night in a tavern with the author. Either way, it is rightfully yours. I wish there was more for me to give you but Balinor declared it must all be hidden. That which he could not destroy. You must understand Merlin, he did not anticipate _you_. Neither of them expected to have a son to receive any legacy.”

“I do. It doesn't ease things; is there anything here about their rituals around death?”

Gaius hesitated and his apprentice growled, “Don't look at me as though you expect horrors like _he_ does.” It came out harsher than he intended and Merlin forced his voice to soften. “I simply need to be sure that I have not neglected an important thing for his spirit’s peace. Your promise of showing me where the mass graves and dark places made me think. Well, that and the ghosts.”  His _thought_ was that Gaius should show Arthur too, but _he_ was well able to do that himself after, and they still couldn’t risk the old man catching on to exactly what was happening, what _they_ were engineering.

“Oh, of course it did, I can’t show you today, or tomorrow as there’s council and it  means a higher risk of being followed then, the day after should be safe.”

“I can be late for work for that.” Merlin set his jaw.

“Not for the first time Merlin. Are you sure? The Prince has been under a lot of stress recently.”

_You have no idea_ thought the now _less_ secret warlock.

“It has already waited far too long. I can organise cover for the morning easily enough. George will be insufferable after, but at least he won't argue.”

“As I understand it the Prince has become somewhat accustomed to the complaints of manservants.”

“I won't deny he prefers that over brass jokes. You should hear some. Perhaps one day when you can't slip away we'll tell them to you. Anyway, rounds to do. Please tell me that somewhere under the books and scrolls a list is to be found for restocking.”

“You are looking at it, that is the pile for you, including the list.” Merlin sighed, seeing the pile and wondering how he could subtly carry them. Looking around the room he spotted an old pack for collecting. It wouldn't be too odd for him to carry one, and in the absence of better options he grabbed the books and lists, dumping them into the bag and tried to look innocent enough to stop by the kitchens to collect Arthur's breakfast.

“Alright. I will see you tonight Gaius. As long as I survive the knights _help_.”

Talking to Gaius these days seemed to leave him with more questions than answers and there was a new awkwardness that had not existed between them before. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Be careful Gaius, you still do too much. Can't save anyone if you work yourself ill. We need another pair of hands -and legs, for when I'm serving the Prat.”

Merlin left the room with a burning desire to find a corner and immerse himself in the new information, and also to go back and shake himself for trying to be natural with his old mentor far too soon. 

Merlin distributed the first lot of medicines quickly, relieved that they gave out any that wouldn’t spoil in bottles and jars to last several days now. He managed to avoid eye contact with all but the head cook on the way to Arthur's chambers. As usual she brandished a ladle at him and yelled something he couldn't discern over the heat noise, and bustle of the castle kitchen. He made the usual noises of agreement they all did and wondered where to start, and what destiny would blindside him with today. If Gwaine had worked out that Lancelot knew had Arthur? He didn't think the Prince would take that well if someone else told him. Maybe destiny was in a good mood today. Or busy fucking with some other ‘chosen one’.  Ach, who was he kidding, Destiny was never a chilled out type; she could probably handle all of them at once.


	37. Chapter 37

He opened the door to _his_ destiny’s bed chambers. “Good morning lazy daisy!”  

Merlin ducked the pillow hurled at his head. “Okay, _not_ a good morning then. If you knock anything off this tray I’m not going back down for more, that ladle’s as deadly as your sword if she decides we’ve dropped things.” He placed the tray on the dining table and approached the bed, this time ready to duck or throw anything back at the Prince. “Food first, _then_ talk, and I _do_ expect some sort of reason for the chicken that isn’t going to give me nightmares _Sire.”_

“My head hurts and I don’t have to get up. You can’t make me.”

 

“I’ll fix it as soon as you stop sulking like Gwaine when denied apples, yes, you really _do_ have to, and I absolutely _can_ Arthur. Would you rather I use the cold water method or vanishing the nice warm duvet?”

“I hate you.”

“Yes sire. So. Water or duvet?” Merlin grinned maniacally, “I could do both?”

“I’m up you clotpole, no water, not in bed. It makes things… uncomfortably soggy; and takes ages for even an _efficient_ servant to dry.”

“You know I could just dry it with magic right?”

“You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you.”

“Who me? No, I would _never_ go out of my way just to inflict petty inconveniences on you _sire.”_

 “Shirt.”

 “You missed something sire.”  
“Hand me my damn shirt _please._ It’s colder than my father’s heart in December without the covers. _”_

“Here. Don’t say I’m not good to you.” Merlin cast a temporary warming spell over the prince. It would wear off as he acclimatised. The fire he did manually, stiff muscles protesting, but recognising the importance of continuing to do most of his work _without_ magic. Arthur might not understand, but he had his reasons, and sometimes it was _nice_ to be mundane and undertake _normal_ tasks that didn’t hold the stakes of Albion.

His friend’s muscles loosened as the warmth seeped into them and he caught the tunic and undershirt that Merlin tossed him.

Still grumbling but much less averse to accepting the necessity of rousing and dealing with another stressful day of unofficially ruling Camelot.

“Was last night productive?” Arthur sat down at the table, his own breakfast richer than Merlin’s, but the warlock was still working on remembering regular food intake whilst the prince was accustomed to that lifestyle at home. The physician's apprentice in him knew that to try those habits would be ill advised.

 Merlin dragged hands down his face groaning, “Yes it was. Gwen got what she wanted, and my guide was able to identify a number of useful things and helped me to avoid several traps; not all of the things that I am required to retrieve should be touched before I am formally authorised to. More important is that I have to identify a particular spell using dark magic down there, from _years_ ago. There are a lot of different branches of magic Arthur, and subtypes. One that all but the most controlled and experienced magic users shy away from is blood magic. I’ve never used it. No one below a priestess level could do so with _any_ safety. It can be used for something _good_ , such as a parent keeping track of an impaired child, but is one that can be twisted to the very dark. Morgause and Morgana’s immortal army was the result of a very specific use of blood magic and powerful artefact of the Old Religion. Safe until we were sent to retrieve it.”  
  
“That fucking _cup._ ”

“Yes sire, though I suggest you never refer to it that way. It’s the Cup of Life. Involved in healing the Questing beat’s bite, and Sir Leon.  What _they_ did with it was an abomination.” Merlin’s anger was clear to Arthur in his voice and the set of his shoulders “Morgause tainted something sacred for selfish reasons; for that alone she should have been removed from her position, had Gaius not… Oh gods. I didn’t think.”

 

Arthur sighed, “I am trying not to break things right now Merlin and you are _not helping._ Be clear and unambiguous. _”_

“Gaius defended me against his daughter and I think the injury killed her, it certainly was a severe wound. I was angry about her, didn’t hold back much verbally, and he still chose me and Camelot over her, after risking smuggling her out _._ Not that she’s any less of an evil witch, but I’m familiar enough with unwittingly callous comments to know they still hurt when a man’s raw.”

 

The Prince frowned pensively. “Are you? I mean that’s all some pretty complicated shit, but only he can help you to sort through the mess. I’m the Crown Prince, not God, and having to pick my battles right now because there are fucking hundreds--all of which seem to be spawning mini ones. We don’t have much time before I have to be in the council chambers, use it wisely.”  
Merlin closed his eyes to hide their brightness and swallowed against the ache in his throat that made it hard to form words, use it wisely was sensible, tomorrow was promised to no man.

“You told me no man is worth my tears when Balinor died. That magic could never be trusted at William’s pyre. Thanked me for reminding you never trust a sorcerer after you drew your sword on Uther. You killed the woman I loved and were proud of it. _I understand accidental hurt Arthur.”_  
  
Arthur looked stricken. “I did _what?”_ He knew that the idiot was reciting facts because he could actually recall all but one of the events mentioned.

“You were acting to defend Camelot sire. I- Sometimes there _are no good choices._ Her name was Freya, and she was brave, beautiful; and cursed. I was sure I could break it, we were supposed to leave that night, but I was late, just late enough to see you corner her, attack and give her the wound that killed her. I distracted them and she got away, got to me, but it was too late, I couldn’t stop the blood; there was nothing I could do to save her. Nothing I _would_ do, my mind was just numb, in shock I think, so I took her in my arms and just ran, as far and as fast as I could. Maybe if I hadn’t been in hiding, or if you had known, or Gaius hadn’t outed her. So many what if’s that I can never allow myself to think of. She’s the one I stole Morgana’s dress for, and food. That’s… That’s the dress I sent her to Avalon in. I _hope_ she found her peace there. She died in my arms. It doesn’t help the pain, but I think it was less terrible for _her_ than dying alone, or being publicly tortured. She was so afraid here. I wanted her last moments to be somewhere good, clean, I needed to give her that much at least.”

 Arthur was speechless. If Merlin had killed Guinivere, _murdered in cold blood_ \- hell, if Merlin had _hurt_ a terrified Guinivere Arthur would have ended him, and the man in front of him still _served him_. Was the closest one to him each day, saw the weaknesses and doubts, and didn’t abuse them. “I… I don’t think I understand you at all; or perhaps I understand more than ever. I know it doesn’t help but I am sincerely sorry Merlin, I will endeavour with your help to ensure that what happened to Freya, to you and to Sir Percival, never happens again. It was wrong; I cannot fix the past but I can honour them in this way.”  There was a pain and compassion in the prince’s voice that compelled Merlin to properly meet his eyes and connect.

 “I know, Arthur. If I had any doubt of your integrity and desire to change things I wouldn’t be at your side. It’s not for a lack of offers Sire. There have been plenty over the years, though few enough from folk who _didn’t_ want to kill you, and that was a problem as you are my friend, and my destiny is to protect you.”

“How can you still be _near_ me, even call me ‘friend’- especially when I _still_ deny it to people. Not all anymore but…”

“Because I know exactly what carrying the burden of those choices is like, and the terrible cost of a young man’s mistakes. How can I avenge _her_ by killing _you_ when some of my own actions have cost innocent lives? I _still_ feel sick with guilt every time I see the damage that can’t be made right. I’ve seen you murder innocents Sire, _far too many times,_ and reluctantly send good men to their deaths, knowing when you gave the command that not all would return to their family. Very rarely are there _nice_ tidy options against a clear big, black, evil one.  
I’ve never intentionally killed someone who wasn’t trying to kill you or my family, but that doesn’t help the families left behind by my stupidity or inexperience. Holding onto anger destroys people. Look at Uther; at Morgana, at those mothers who tried to kill you when I asked them to walk away. Tell me Arthur, what _should I have done?_

Revenge was never an option, even if you _hadn’t_ been the Once and Future King. Plus, the one time  _I_ _did_ go all vengeance mad on someone before, it left us with no high priestess and apparently an imbalance in the Old religion. Sire, I couldn’t _then_ , but _now_ I can sense every life around us, every heartbeat, and though I’ve never tried it I think I could stop a heart beating. Someone like that who was unable to forgive? Can you even imagine?  
I won’t try it, _I can’t.”_ There was a tightness around Merlin’s eyes and mouth.

 ‘Don’t turn him into a weapon’ echoed loudly in his mind even as Arthur’s mouth reacted with: “You can do that? Fuck Merlin, why didn’t you in battle?”

_“So many reasons_ , like how could I even begin to explain that without magic? Would you really _want_ me to fight every battle for you? You are a warrior Arthur, a great one the victory should be your own, and certain _techniques_ would unbalance things so far unless Morgana stood on the battlefield that it seems wrong. Would you feel right attacking an aggressive child who was sure they could beat you with a wooden sword while you were fully armed and armoured? It’s the same. Someone bringing only iron and steel is defenceless against lightning or magical fire, let alone cutting the lifesource. More than anything though Arthur, what if I got it wrong? Or used to much power? Or too little and was slow to intervene, and what if I stopped realising the magnitude of the action by dissociation? Is it easier to kill a man with a word to the executioner and walk away, or with a sword, or with your bare hands in close quarters? You know I’m right Sire; and _you_ have rules, taught to you from birth about the use and exercise of judgement and power. Mine are a lot more… ad hoc. Flexible. They’ve _had_ to be. The field kept changing, I never had backup unless we were out on patrol or in typical battles. I didn’t realise there were enchanted chains until she chained me in the forest for serkets, or that all these creatures existed before Camelot.”

 Wisdom. Arthur thought, wisdom is why he didn’t do it. Even without any training a part of Merlin recognised the dangers; and the same fear that Arthur knew intimately. When the balance of life and death lay in your hands, on the tip of your tongue, at any given moment, it was a responsibility like no other. People weren’t always honest, or honourable, and making the wrong decision could be devastating.

“Rules and customs I can teach you. Gwaine and Lord Geoffrey can help with the rules of warfare specifically relating to warlocks and witches as I obviously have no experience in _that.”_

“Uhm..” Merlin rubbed the back of his neck that felt prickly, though not the way of scrying thankfully, merely discomfort of confessing his fears and inaction at times; the inaction seemed as terrible as condemning them himself. It was why he hadn’t always hidden from their projected pain. “About customs… and the thing you mentioned last night. I have a starting point now for research; and Gaius has sworn to show me the first of the unmarked mass graves. I have to go with him, It’s important. I haven’t asked him to take _you_ because I still don’t know how much to trust him with after being so taken in and _betrayed_. You’ve my word that I will show you as soon as I know. I don’t know whether it’s the same one Lachlan mention or not. Oh, and the ghost gave me his family’s gauntlets and coat. They were in the vaults but aren’t magic… yet. He said I’m meant to have one with the crest of my own family, it seems that Balinor made his more personalised.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. “You couldn’t just be hiding something simple like an illicit lover or stealing from the royal coffers.”

“Never boring, me. It’s all part of my charm.”

Camelot’s prince groaned. “A man can be _too_ charming you know; I am even suspicious of boring George now, thanks to Lord Geoffrey. I trust you to keep your word and show me what I must see. Enchanted chains sound very bad, I think that may be something I should know, _Merlin.”_ Arthur was not wearing an expression to be argued with; it was the same one he wore to debrief knights of patrols where men were injured, or the physician about the state of that man.

Merlin sighed, “Look Arthur, there are things that are benefits to you of me being a servant; and there are downsides.  
One of those is that in court or bringing charges against my ‘betters’, my word is practically worthless without irrefutable _proof. I_ knew from almost the time she returned to us that Morgana’s loyalties had changed. I followed her often when she went to meet Morgause, or spoke to her in other ways, it helped me to protect you, but to accuse the king’s daughter of treason and plotting with witches to kill the king and his son? It would have been suicide.  More importantly it would have been _disbelieved_. It’s not like that was the first time they tried to kill me.  
I just got careless and she realised I was following that time. So yes, when they left to begin the attack, I was chained in the woods by chains that tightened every time I used magic or strength to try and escape. The serkets came, and I managed to get rid of some, but not enough and I got stung. Kilgarrah saved me, I called him with my last breath and he was thankfully bloody close. I turned up as soon as I had a weapon and enough strength recovered to stand.  You of course were a prat and didn’t believe me, just shrugged it off, so when I saved Camelot again and fought her and she took credit for it there was nothing I could say.”

Arthur looked Merlin over curiously as though checking he was still solid and present. “You should be dead Merlin _, no one_ lives through serket venom.”  
The warlock sighed deeply, “I’m not saying it was pleasant Arthur, it was even worse than the mortaeus. The pain was _indescribable,_ don’t ask me about it, but dragonlords are apparently harder to kill than most men and dragon magic is damn good at speeding up healing for most things.” Merlin clenched his fists against remembered agony.

  
Arthur closed his eyes “I was a fool, I should have seen it. Morgana was different, colder. Darker.” There was an emptiness to that which was just _wrong_.  
Merlin shook his head sadly, “You were a brother glad to have his sister back, even if you didn’t know the blood connection yet. That’s not foolishness. Just love. It didn’t exactly help that you were kept ignorant of magic against your will. Her trust of _me_ was gone because I had to poison her to get Morgause to release the hold over the knights, she made Morgana the vessel. The thing that keeps the spell going. I knew she could save Morgana when I told her which poison, but it was still a gamble that she would care about the _woman_ enough to let go of that bid for power before it was too late.”

The Prince looked slightly stunned, of all things he hadn't expected _that._ “No wonder she spent so much time glaring furiously and smirking at you. Did you know about our real relationship?” There was no hint of the prince’s mood in his tone and Merlin cringed, that was Arthur at his most volatile.

 “Not then. After she fell- that was my fault; I was trying to stop a prophecy from unfolding. I hadn’t learned yet what I have now, anyway, she fell and was unconscious.

Somehow Uther didn’t realise I was in the room; Gaius needed the help of a second pair of trained hands, he told Gaius to do _anything_ to save her, including magic. That was the night he told Gaius what she was to him; and the night I heard. Nothing we could have done would help, head injuries are unpredictable and often bad, it was your words, your grief that sent me out that night to _demand_ a solution. An action I’m now ashamed of, and not only because of _her_ actions since. So no. I didn’t, but I knew a long time before you did. Gaius was bound to silence on his life. Telling you would be to kill him. Decisions that cost or save lives I really do understand, and never having any other input but Gaius? I didn't always make the right decision. He did his best I think, and so did I but I had _one book_ of spells. The library has odds and ends, but I’d no one to help organise those or make sense of some, so I shied away from the things that look more powerful in case it went wrong. No one who actually still _practices_ the Old religion, though my magic and body still react to it. The magic in me is the magic of Albion, and apparently the goddess, sort of, or the rituals in the centre of the priestesses power wouldn’t have worked for me.”

 “Somehow I doubt he’d have allowed magic to be used to save _me._ I wonder why. You should have told me. There is _so much_ you should have told me.” There was a deep sorrow in the admission and having seen Arthur close to death on too many occasions, Merlin had to agree. He couldn't afford to have Arthur resort to anger and bitterness though, needed him to at least understand it wasn't done to torment him.

“And would you have told Uther? Or acted directly against him while he was at full strength to conceal it? Would I have been shown mercy and banished for services to Camelot? Or would you have acted impulsively in anger, and either burned me or executed me to make an example?”

 “I- I don’t know.” Arthur looked pale, nauseated at the possibilities.

“If you don’t then how could I have? If I died nothing would have stood between Morgana and the throne. Or your death. The risk was too high. I care sire. Not just about the regent, or the prince. I care about _you Arthur._ I couldn’t leave you alone. You might turn back into a complete prat for real if I did. Start banishing people for rumours, or screaming at bootlickers, can’t have that.”

Arthur nodded, feeling like his skin was too tight. “I think that’s about all I can take right now and still get through the rest of the day. You have the afternoon after council ‘off’ for training with Gwaine and beginning to find who your family were, prioritise the training, take your own gauntlets to practice. The reading can wait for tonight if required, I have to meet with Lord Geoffrey to look over some ancient laws anyway.”

“Thanks Arthur. I don’t know how to do this properly, and I’m not sure there’s any right way, or good way to do it.”

“For once you might be right. I think I need to speak to Sir Leon or Sir Lancelot next. Probably Leon. As you said he was revived by that sacred cup, and _he_ seems to consider the city and the further reaches to abide by different rules. Perhaps he has also concluded that certain laws lack honour and justice. I won’t know for sure until I speak to him.”

“Yes sire. I ask only that you don’t tell him who _I am._ Not yet. Anyone who has stayed with the druids should be handled with care. This is difficult enough with you and Gwaine knowing so much, and Percy knowing some things about us. I trust you sire, I can say it honestly now. I trust you with _my_ life, not my shadow, or Merlin-the-servant’s life. All of me. Try and respect that I need a little time to process _that_ , and everything else, before adding more men who know too much. Too many have died for knowing about me already. For it to kill those of the round table… It would break me. Many people have tried already, but none of them understood.

I don’t fight because I like it. I don’t fight for superiority, or out of jealousy, or ambition. I fight to protect others; and in a few cases, for love- oh don’t look so horrified you prat! Tell me you don’t love Leon, or Gwen, or Lance. Even Gwaine on occasion. Hel, as mixed up as your feelings are towards king Uther, you still love your father. Thought not. Gwen might actually kill me if I ever _did_ try anything serious.” Merlin winked cheekily. He’d never _told_ Arthur he was flexible, and until the last few days Arthur had never confirmed that he _knew_ , though he had suspected that was the case. That it didn’t seem to bother him was a pleasant surprise after the prince had internalised the king’s other prejudices and professed hatred so thoroughly.

“Of course. You’re right. I actually prefer that attitude among knights to the ones who fight for their own pride, or to satisfy a parent’s expectation. I won’t tell Leon more about Camelot and magic than he is ready for, and no more about you than _you_ are ready for.” He rolled his eyes. “The last thing I need in _this_ epic mess is a spooked warlock on top of everything else; or to lose a friend. I need all the allies I can get. You’ve never wavered and it seems that you have had many good reasons to abandon me. Or your cause.”

“The thing about destiny, Arthur, is that you can never quite escape it, no matter what you do. Every time you think you’ve found one She finds a way to redirect you back, and She doesn’t like taking chances. She’s always coming for us, whichever path we take between the events that must occur. I’ve tried to run. The distraction is always _removed_. It’s more than time we both tried a new approach. Trusting each other is a good place to begin I suppose.”

“It’s a bit late to turn back now Merlin.”

“There’s that. Are you going to get dressed some time today? If not the council is going to be _really_ awkward.”

" _Thank you Merlin._ Just fantastically helpful. I _might_ be doing so if my manservant had more interest in turning up to anything on time and organising dull things like clothing.”

“It’s on the bed Arthur, which even _you_ would see, clotpole, if you turned around and focused on your surroundings _inside_ for a minute- and I was _on time today_ despite having four jobs instead of the two I _officially_ have.” Arthur cringed slightly as he realised he’d prodded Merlin into full scolding, hands on hips mode; he did wonder if that was a habit of Hunith’s the way he’d picked up the Gaius eyebrow,

“Sorry Merlin. Distracted.”

The servant-warlock grunted “Yeah. I know the feeling. Just make sure they don’t start thinking that _you_ have some kind of severe mental defect too. If they decide it’s a Pendragon trait we’ll have much bigger problems than we do today.”

“Hmm, not a mistake I intend to make.” Arthur moved to cooperate with their usual morning ritual of dressing for court or training. “Will you be showing anyone this recently inherited Dragonlord garb of yours?”

Merlin chuckled, “Since I can count on one hand the number of people who _know_ I’m a Dragonlord that would be a no; unless you and Gwaine want to see it. Lord Geoffrey isn’t someone I’d discuss the merits of fashion with, unless it was ceremonial and complicated. I doubt he has any interest in it, and if I showed Gaius I’d have to explain how I got it and why.”

 “I’m interested. Maybe it matches one of the crests I hadn’t seen before. Is there anyone else at the round table you think might understand?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes, wondering what Arthur had worked out. “Well, Sirs Percival and Lancelot have travelled outside of Camelot’s border sire, and Percy’s family might have told stories. Lance is a good option, but I think he should see first that you also know and have accepted magic. At least in some of its forms. I’ll speak to him Arthur, if you deal with Leon. Perhaps he could remain behind after _your_ council meeting to speak to us together.”

“As long as it doesn’t make you miss your own training, idiot.”

“As tempting as that is sire, I’d hate to have to do the _first one_ again. Gwaine seems less merciful than you with that. I think he might be trying to kill me slowly.”

Arthur laughed then, “Don’t be such a _girl_ Merlin. Gwaine wants to keep you alive. I’d happily torture you myself but someone would notice, and the time is not yet right for that.”

“Thank the gods for small mercies. Speaking of time sire, there isn’t enough of it. I would like to arrange for the proper laundresses to handle your general laundry, and the stable boys to ready and groom the horses- except maybe Llamrei. I’d suggest a chambermaid, but that would just make me worry about what they could be doing; planting, information they could gather. Your rooms are off limits until I can properly ward and protect them, but that would be noticeably magic if someone _did_ try to hurt you.”  
Arthur shrugged into his jacket and sighed. “I certainly can’t have you even less focused than you are. Have you ever tried using lists Merlin? Handy things, usually written down.”

 Merlin looked puzzled, “Yeeees. For collecting plants and avoiding drugging the wrong people.”

“Try branching out in their usage. I will agree to the proposed changes if you pursue a solution to our shortage of physicians.”

“Isil- a Druid elder is considering those who might be suited to it. If there are any youths who have lost parents there may be a likely lad, or lass among them, anyone of age to apprentice in a family business without family might be glad of a skill.”

 “Good, but let’s see if you can’t get someone who _can_ be around it without feeling threatened first, I don’t want someone like that getting caught up in Gaius and Uther’s mess. You can bring _them_ in later when you’ve ab extra hand who is genuinely useful to keep them focused. Perhaps Guinivere could find out what’s being done with the youths right now; an abundance of disgruntled and disowned young people do not make for a smooth running kingdom.” 

“The biggest problem there is that those from Camelot won’t be willing to use magic. It terrifies them and we are _watched_ as they wait for it to corrupt us.”

  
“True, but they are going to have to learn to accept it, aren’t they _Emrys.”_

Arthur could see the beginnings of panic in his servant. Warlock. Whatever. As exasperating as it was, given that the man could face down beasts without so much as a shield, and didn’t hesitate to face the undead, Arthur did understand the feeling of being thrown unprepared into a situation. It _would_ take more than a few days to untrain Merlin’s hind-brain from a lifetime of fear and suspicion. Always watching, always hiding. _Expecting_ to die at a friend’s command; that still plagued Arthur, knowing Merlin had chosen to stay with every expectation of death. He certainly hadn’t known about being ‘hard to kill’ until he tested it.

“Breathe, Merlin. I’m not telling you to show people, but try to get used to the idea a _little bit_ before you accidentally out yourself with reactions, never mind your alarmingly public displays. Nervous doesn't suit you as well as the cocky idiot look.”

Shaking himself the warlock nodded, putting away his anxiety in a mental box. “You really think Leon can deal with this sire?”

“Merlin. Do you trust Leon?”

“Yes. In _almost_ all things, _those_ knights are like my brothers… just not like _you.”_

His answer warmed something in Arthur’s chest and the prince cleared his throat, “Do you trust my judgement then?”

“I…” Merlin closed his eyes, “Yes Arthur.”

 “I’ve known Leon all my life Merlin, he’s a knight to the bone, his opinions may not line up with his past actions, and he has given me cause to believe that his feelings on magic and it’s practitioners have changed. Either way I do need to know his feelings on this matter. Sir Leon is my first knight, and the most experienced of the Round Table, he is _very close_ and could be a vital strength and support, _or_ a fatal weakness if neglected, and dear God do we have enough vulnerabilities to address already. I don’t need to overlook another one for the sake of ego and past friendship. I suspect that this choice of course will cost me many current allies and so called _friends,_ but I cannot both have Emrys, Lord of the druids and Last Dragonlord at my side _and_ execute sorcerers for the use of _clean_ magic. It hardly makes sense to kill a man for drawing a bath, let alone for healing a man without a cost to others.”

 “That- the cost? It is known as the balance sire. The balance is innate to this world, it existed before anything, is neutral, but there has been a huge disruption in Albion, your birth, and the Purge, the extinction of entire races of magical creatures, it created a- a _debt_ of sorts. It can be fixed, but only if _we_ fix it, and fuck knows why. The balance isn’t _evil._ It doesn’t seek vengeance. From what I can gather it seeks towards absolute justice, but has no sentience of it’s own. Theoretically any lives traded that way would be randomly chosen, based on proximity and connection to the one who struck the deal. I can _decide. Choose._ The book said I shouldn’t be able to do that. The balance itself isn’t something to _fear_ Sire. Might be wise to acknowledge its existence from time to time now that you are aware of it.” 

“I’ll think on it Merlin; I have even fewer resources than _you_ do and years more of calculated misinformation and obfuscation. We were left open to conquest. People _died_ simply for fostered ignorance.” Merlin bit his tongue thinking of the thousands who died in the fires and slaughter of the Purge.

The Prince saw him bridling anyway, “You know what I mean Idiot. This isn’t even my Court yet, and someone is trying to bring it down, no one has spoken up or tried to give any hints before. Morgana will not wait to be ready to attack to find a way of getting information, one way or another. If he’d lived my uncle could have helped but he didn’t and very little remains of his entourage.”

“Wait- go back to the entourage, did anyone _survive_?”

Arthur grimaced and looked nauseous, “Two. I’m not sure I’d have wanted to. They returned yesterday whilst you were gone, Gaius gave them strong draughts and did what he could, I have to interview them again when they wake. Whoever they are someone sick took out their frustrations.”

Merlin ran fingers through dark hair, “Arthur, Morgana and Morgause do not leave _accidental_ survivors from attacks, if they are alive they are free for a _reason_ . You might have your leaks right there, do _not_ let them leave, or catch wind of our activities. Drug them again if possible, and guard them. I have to work out-”

“Merlin they took a man’s _thumbs_ , the men are hardly going to help their torturer.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the simplistic statement.

“Hmm, really? You can’t think of any other cases where people helped their oppressors?” It was easy for the prat to forget just how new he was to _not_ being someone who actively hunted and executed innocents, however misinformed he was- or had been.

It was _not_ easy for Merlin to forget, and he still had nightmares of the Prince changing his mind, this time knowing to bind Merlin with proper cuffs and chains. “Seriously though Arthur, you don’t know if there’s a hostage, whether they are being controlled, whether they are just plain terrified enough to report back _or if they are assassins_.”  
Arthur rolled his eyes, “Merlin, if they _are_ spies you can feed them false information and know who her eyes are. If we execute them she’ll send more and we _won’t._ Father used to spy on us both growing up and I always hated it. Morgana even more. It’s one of the reasons I resisted having a permanent manservant, too easy to manipulate- or buy.”

“You thought I was safe?” Merlin snorted. 

The Prince shrugged, “You were _not_ a bootlicker. That was novel in itself. You had no one here Uther could use against you without harming himself, no apparent ambition to be the top servant, and father found you irritating enough not to try and talk to. I found you insolent, annoying, and unlikely to report my movements to the king, the least efficient servant at your actual job but most tolerable to be around, and quite enjoyed the fact that keeping you on irritated father. I can fire you at will and it’s fine.” Merlin scowled, “In theory he could, despite you being part of _my_ household; but because he awarded you the position publicly as a reward, to remove you would be to confess an error of judgement. Something the king cannot do. It rankled that he couldn’t use you as a means to control me. Now _that_ was worth putting up with terrible personal _service_ for.” Arthur grinned, recalling the sour look on Uther’s face on so many occasions.

His friend glared at him, recalling the many times he’d had that look directed at him and wondered if he’d been discovered. “Well it’s nice to know I have some appreciated talents.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, you are terribly treated, and life is unfair. I need something better than guards on a door. They can’t exactly follow people around all day without being noticed, ah hel, I need to take a leaf from Uther’s book this once. If they are active in this castle so we have Uther’s spies, _and_ Morgana’s to deal with, then I’m bloody well going to have my own network to counter them.”

Merlin leaned back, with his arms folded, thinking. “How do you feel about servants Sire, and ghosts. Servants are _excellent_ and we know secrets about fucking everyone, _you are literally trained not to see us_ , and ghosts do have the advantage of not being visible to most and not having to sleep.”

Arthur glared at the man, “Servants yes, if properly vetted, you always knew when something was wrong, and Guinivere sometimes helped or handled things for Morgana. I can’t tell you how deeply uncomfortable I am about using trapped spirits as spies, both due to their being dead, and because it feels like cheating if they physically can’t be seen.”

“Morgana has the Sight, and will be scrying, you’ll be at a disadvantage if you don’t.”

Arthur groaned. “God I hate this. Why is nothing simple anymore?”

The servant couldn’t quite keep the note of bitterness from his answering laugh, “My lament since I entered Camelot, Sire. I grew up in the home you saw, without a bed, farming, _this_ was not what I envisioned for my life.”  
Arthur looked at his curiously, “Do you regret it? Coming to Camelot?”

Merlin frowned, that was a very loaded question. “I don’t think there was ever a choice, I’d have been sent here one way or another; this way didn’t cost lives. I have many regrets Arthur, how things were done, choices and decisions that backfired, but coming to Camelot is not one of them. Nor is defending you; even before you considered me a friend, because honestly, when we met you were a total prat, and I’d never so much as seen a castle. You- the knights of Camelot were the scary monsters in my bedtime stories. They were frightening, I was taught to always run in the opposite direction and never stop running until my legs could not carry me. As a child, Leon was my biggest bad guy, even more than the raiders we knew. Perhaps if I hadn't ended up forced into such close proximity I would not have had it challenged and learned that each conflict and encounter has two sides. No. I don't regret coming to Camelot. I just wish it had been in more Peaceful times.”

Arthur nodded, every conversation with Merlin seemed to leave him with both greater understanding and yet more questions than before. “Fuck. I meant to leave already, I never used to be so easily distracted. Your bad timing is contagious Merlin.”

“Oi! Don't make me sound like some horrible disease you prat… and you totally did, seriously the first shapely blonde or shiny weapon and you were lost.”

“I'll make you sound however I like, idiot, just try not to attract attention. I'll arrange a guard detail for the two ‘escaped attendants’.”

“Thank you sire.”

Merlin felt a small burden eased, a feeling that increased at the next concession, “And you can have your ghost spies. Or insanity. Whichever.”

“Oh no, Eileen thinks _Gwaine_ is crazy.”

 Arthur nodded his approval,“Sensible girl. That doesn't mean that you are _not_. In fact it would explain a lot if insane people are drawn together.”

Merlin, who had watched the Camelot knights and family for years, actually thought the idea had merit, but it wouldn’t do to give the prat the satisfaction.

“ _Yes Sire,_ we’re exactly like birds.” His servant drawled.

“Merlin?”

“Yes Arthur?”

 “You are literally _named_ after a fucking bird. After you have done the things on your list I want you to try and find something to drink that wakes people up, and is palatable. Better than mint tea, but with the opposite effect of wine.”

Merlin snorted, as if he had _time_ for that kind of nonsense, “I will put it on the list of things that I will never have time for but agree with on principle.”

 “I'll give you a day off.” The prince said seriously.

“This is not a priority Arthur.”

“Two days off, consecutive days even.” He offered hopefully.

Merlin sighed, rolling his eyes, “I'll see what I can do Arthur.”

“Three if it helps hangovers.”

 “I already agreed you clotpole. Fine. Three days off and I'll find you some mystical anti-wine drink for mornings! _If_ and _only if_ you stop fucking nagging me.”

 “Wow. _Someone’s_ touchy. You know there are things to help that.” Arthur smirked.

“Yeah. One of them’s for entitled prat’s to shut up. I guess I’m overdue an unnecessary quest anyway. Usually Gwaine’s my go-to for those but we can’t _both_ leave, and Lancelot isn’t likely to humour us on this one.”

“Sir Lancelot would do most things if you just asked nicely Merlin.”

"No, he do most things if  _you_ asked nicely. He’d demand an explanation from me first and refuse to help until he believed it was at least marginally important. Then ask how I could simultaneously be ridiculously brave and such an idiot. I’m never sure whether it’s meant to be kind or scolding.”

“Trying to keep you alive; what a terrible friend.” Arthur raised a brow at his warlock. “I wondered…” The man looked almost nervous, if Arthur ever _got_ nervous, “Does Lancelot _know_ about you?”

Merlin bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, expression twisting, “He caught me doing magic, but to save lives. He knows some. He doesn’t know as much as you do now, and I completely panicked then; I wasn’t always careful. I’d never actually _told_ anyone before you and Gwaine. Even _Gaius_ was an accident.”

 “Of course he was. You seriously thought you’d just live with the man and he wouldn’t notice?”

Merlin shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it, plus seeing the city was pretty overwhelming in itself. The prince just stared at his friend in appalled disbelief, “Hadn’t really…? Of course you hadn’t. How you are still alive really is a  mystery Merlin.”

The warlock shifted uncomfortably, “Just lucky I guess.”

Arthur wasn’t buying the look, but he also wasn’t about to question it further, he had too much to think on already. “Armoury, now.” He ordered. “I need to get some training in with the knights before we hold Court and make sure Father doesn’t- is appropriately attended.”

There would be time for reading after that if they were careful and didn’t waste time, and as much as he might tease Merlin, when it _really_ mattered he wasn’t at all bad, and mercifully had stopped giving Arthur such terrible excuses. Falling into step easily they both walked quickly, Merlin almost knocked off balance when Percy clapped him amiably on the shoulder and Arthur sniggered, the clotpole; leaving Merlin wondering how to get even with Arthur without him noticing when the Prince _knew_ he had magic. That was one downside he had failed to consider and cursed. Maybe Gwaine and Percy would help with _that_  if he asked _them_ nicely.


	38. Chapter 38

There was never going to be a simple way to move forward, and Merlin had hated sharing things that were… Well… personal. When he first decided that he had to try and stop outright lying it hadn't seemed as daunting.  Rage he supposed and adrenaline might have fuelled that impulse, or dulled his nerves. The reality of it was quite different. Conflicted emotions roiling inside him left him feeling sick and discomfited.

It _was_ necessary though, this rawness and sharing of painful truths, he had accepted that.

When Arthur asked him about Lancelot he had been sorely tempted to lie, it would be so easy whispered a voice in the back of his mind. He knew, without doubt, that if he caved to the temptation then it would end what had been growing between them. He'd slip back into old habits and Merlin _wanted_ to form new ones. If Gwaine and Percival were risking their necks for it- without magic protection- then he _had_ to. That wasn't going to be easy and went against all his life long training to keep The Secret. With the added pressure of Destiny it was a great deal to expect Arthur to assimilate in a short time.

Arthur appeared sincere in both his horror as he came slowly to understand, and his resolve to change things. Merlin had served him long enough to recognise all of his faked faces and feigned responses to the Lords and Ladies. So he had taken the risk of the truth. Even if _he_ lied the chances of the knight doing so were low. Lancelot would tell him about the Griffin, or why he felt he hadn’t earned his title back then and Arthur would know. Bloody destiny.

Watching training was at least a temporary distraction from all of the complicated things. Lancelot was definitely going to be feeling the effects of Arthur's _manly feelings_ for several days to come. Eventually even Leon noticed and suggested Percival spar with the Prince before someone was actually badly damaged. Leon's subtle ‘what the fuck happened’ looks towards Merlin were a lot less subtle than he thought. Why they all assumed that _he_ always knew what was wrong with the Prat he had no - actually he had a very good idea but really they were knights and should pay better attention. In fairness to them he usually did know… And when he did not the problem often involved him or his absence. Being a sulky, over indulged prick apparently was not  not considered considered a ‘reason’.

 

When the men traipsed off the training field, bruised and sweat soaked he threw towels to both Arthur and Percival. Lancelot noticed and caught his eye, brow arching high. Merlin silently rolled his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly...or it would have been if he had not been under close observation. Arthur turned to his first Knight, calling him. “Sir Leon. I have something to discuss with you after council. I'll expect you to come to my Chambers. The actual council chambers seems to be almost unusable outside of those times. Let us not tempt fate this time.” He nodded to Merlin, who by now had removed the plate armour, and his servant stood and approached Lancelot. Not unusual enough to attract attention as the two were still close, despite their different stations. “Um, Lance? We need to talk.”

Lancelot looked at his friend dryly then.

“Can I assume that you have something to do with the uncalled for beating I just took?” Merlin cocked his head to the side, crossing his arms.

“I was in no way consulted about the violence. Possibly. Well probably. If you think he may be using this to channel anger, this would be the result of me taking your advice. The specific advice you have repeated a number of times.”

“Think before you act?” Lancelot mock glared as he unbuckled his braces and Merlin rolled his eyes.

“No. Well yes, but that's not what I meant. The other advice.” Lancelot paused, looking intensely at Merlin for a minute and noting the evidence of nerves and restlessness. Finally nodding in comprehension he answered,

“Ahh. That explains a lot about the pain I am in.”

Merlin frowned, guilt flashing over his features.

“I can fix that when we talk later.”

The Knight smiled brightly,

“I certainly hope so. You might want to run that by Prince Arthur first though, he looks… very irritated.”

“Leave Arthur to me.”

“So you and Percy?”

Merlin laughed, “No. Just good friends. Like you and I. I'm not his type.”

Even if he had been it was too soon for Percy, and Merlin could never offer someone all of himself. Half a coin would always need to be with what made it whole. Not many people could share time and care that way. They might be platonic, but Merlin knew better than to think either he or Arthur would be OK without the other. Any queen would be forced to accept that, either reluctantly or willingly, and he couldn't change it even if he wanted to. Merlin snorted,

“Besides, when have I ever been the type to settle down calmly and take up sock darning?”

Lancelot smiled, looking between the two coin halves, not needing to verbalise his comment. “Fine. You see! I have no reason or inclination to expand my sock darning responsibilities. You can all fix your own damn socks. _Without me!”_

“Sooo shall we be having this _talk_ after council orders before?”

“After. Very definitely after. I have to be able to concentrate during it, not be distracted by keeping the peace between you all and defusing volatile confrontations.”

Some men might have scoffed at such words from a servant, but Lancelot knew better and  merely nodded. “Is Gaius out tonight?”

Merlin swallowed hard, Lancelot knew that Gaius had been aware of Merlin’s _talents_ from the start, “Yeah… About that. Gaius and I had a fight. Things have been busy so I-” No, no outright lies dammit. “I was avoiding the subject and have new Chambers. Gwaine and Gwen can give you directions. Arthur's not glaring at _you_ anymore, my time’s up.”

 Arthur was very keen to avoid losing anyone else, and he was still very much in shock from too many revelations in a short time. All of which were serious enough in themselves to deserve his full attention. He needed time, time to think and learn and _plan,_ and they didn't have it. He sighed and decided it was time to call his warlock to heel.

“Merlin, my sword and armour will need cleaned and polished, right now you are to attend me in the council meeting. Don't dawdle all day, wittering on like a fish wife on market day.” He couldn't completely change how they appeared to others and didn’t really _want_ to, and Merlin appeared to understand as he rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically “Yes _Sire,_ from your lips to the gods ears. _”_  

Lancelot sounded oddly strangled in the background but the warlock ignored it and traipsed after the prince as he had been doing since he arrived in Camelot.

As their footsteps faded Percival turned to Lancelot, brow arched, “You too, eh?”

Lancelot tried to look innocent, “Me too what?” Percy chuckled.

“Good luck with keeping up the oblivious act mate.” Clapping him on the shoulder as he left the armoury, leaving a bewildered knight behind him.

 ------------------

Once the Council session was out of the way they would be able to leave and drop the pretence  of not actually being equals- keeping the bickering and ribbing but without the illusion of power imbalance. Not a situation that the Prince was actually upset about, if anything it removed any sense of possible guilt over tormenting the other man, knowing that if it was _actually_ too far Merlin wouldn’t only be rebelling but was able to fight back. Albeit _not_ with a sword. Yet.

Then when it was _over_ Merlin could try to cram in some reading and Arthur could do- well- whatever it was Arthur did when Merlin wasn’t looking. Maybe see if he could get somewhere with those old dusty tomes.

The extra information about Sir Percival and Merlin added a strange sense of urgency. It wasn’t  that it had seemed _unimportant_ before, but now the suffering of those who survived had a face, the collateral damage and chaos left behind those who died- no, _murdered_ if magic was innate. They were a visual reminder that those stories continued, unceasing, there was no ending for those left behind. Not like when one situation, quest, or sentence was complete for the king and Prince.

He had a horrible, sick feeling that this was going to nag at him until it was fixed, not constantly, but frequently striking at each trigger, and in the moments he’d see _that_  look in their eyes. One he now recognised as the same grief reflected by the widows of lost knights. He wondered how he had never seen that before and understood, it hadn’t been _hidden._ He just hadn’t really been looking for it. In all these months he had never actually asked the men _why_ they fought or what brought them to it.

Council went as well as could be expected with the king ‘leading’ it, and Arthur trying to guide without prompting open conflict in front of the Lords, lest they begin to take sides. Personally Merlin thought it was too late for that, but it wasn’t doing any actual damage. Yet.   
Open confrontations between the king and the heir were always bad, and to date Arthur had always relented or bitterly submitted at least in public. Merlin knew that the next major one was likely to be a tipping point for the current balance of power, and with gossip the news would spread fast to surrounding kingdoms. He hoped that it could be delayed until they were both on a more even keel and more confident in themselves with the recent changes. 

Throughout it all Lachlan stood opposite the king, true to his word he remained silent, and never broke eye contact, staring straight at Uther unflinchingly.

The king began to look agitated early in the meeting and by halfway through was sweating nervously, his manner becoming increasingly brusque. Merlin hoped Uther hadn’t noticed how several of the Lords had begun to glance sideways towards his son when orders were given or an inconsistent response given. Arthur managed to cover most of those slip ups gracefully, but it really had become a matter of time, and the noblemen could sense it. Whether or not it was malignant or neutral they were beginning to evaluate their allegiance and consider where they would stand in terms of favour with Camelot’s new regent. Watching. That sort of scheming made Merlin twitchy. Fortunately magic was not involved in any of the day’s discussion but that couldn’t last, it was amazing that they had managed this long. As the council was dismissed Uther managed to break away from Lachlan’s fierce stare, ghosts had the advantage in that they didn’t need to blink and Merlin was sure that Uther could feel that gaze following him.

Honestly, after being witness to this he truly hoped no one ever decided to haunt him. He was pretty sure that if they did he would have earned it, but gods he hoped he didn’t get a tag-team of them.

Arthur remained, quiet even when they were alone again.

“Merlin? Am I doing the right thing?” Merlin shrugged and turned towards him.   
“I suppose it depends on who you ask. I’m not exactly neutral, but speaking on behalf of those that I am apparently supposed to represent and protect; _yes_ , absolutely. Ending the bloodshed and a genocide is Right. Before I lived all of this I would have asked what you were waiting for, ran ahead. We’ve both grown since those first days changed, and I think there has been too much needless suffering on all sides, but I respect the way you are laying proper foundations and acting to ensure this is not just a superficial change but a lasting legacy. It will take longer than one man’s lifetime for Albion to fully recover, but it can. I was told yesterday- that is, someone said that Albion is holding its breath. You are the air that will revive her. Or kill her. Don't deceive yourself Arthur, if Albion dies, Camelot will fall with her.”

A throat was cleared in the doorway, “Sire, you may want to address the _acoustics_ here. Many important meetings are held in the chambers and the _walls_ were damaged by the last attack.”   
“Hello Lord Geoffrey. You are prepared for _our_ meeting?”  
“Of course Sire.”

Arthur turned to Merlin, clasping his hands behind him, “Well? You heard them man. I expect you to begin to address those repairs as is fitting.”

“Sire?” Merlin looked at him confused.  
“The _acoustics_ Merlin, like the _other reinforced rooms.”_ Arthur hissed and understanding dawned. Both the men beside him _knew_ he was Emrys, and had soundproofed other chambers with magic. He placed a hand on the wall and murmured the spell, a very slight ripple of gold flowing across the walls and door, sinking into them.

“How I ended up with such an idiot as- as _this_ I have no idea. Go on, Gwaine’ll be waiting for you.”

Merlin blushed, he really should have got that faster, especially given that the only reason he hadn’t done it before was so that it was simpler for _him_ to eavesdrop on others.

“Don’t forget with Leon, Sire.”

  
“Sir Leon to you.” retorted the Prince.  

“Not since he wore a very pretty dress Sire.” Merlin smirked.   
“And yet _he_ never stole..” Arthur bit that off, remembering, “Do _try_ and hit Gwaine will you, he did miss his own training this morning.”

Noting the Prince’s self-correction Merlin just nodded tightly, the Prat really was trying… and at last learning _some_ sensitivity. Gwen was good for him. Sometimes.

 Arthur was right, Gwaine had been waiting for him with horses, weapons, and what he assumed was food. Having remembered the prat’s reaction this morning Merlin had taken a quick detour by his quarters and picked up the few Dragonlord items he now had. Casting a quick concealment spell over them he ran most of the way to the stables. Gwaine awas leaning against the stable wall, chatting to one of the stableboys who blushed on seeing Merlin and tried to melt away without being noticed. Not that it worked particularly well, Gwaine rarely stopped talking and Merlin had _issues_ with not acknowledging people who helped him, even if it was doing their job. “Thanks for readying the horses Dan, how’s your dad doing.”

The poor boy stumbled over his words in a way that had Gwaine cringing on his behalf but Merlin appeared not to notice, “Much b-better since you g-gave him the medicine, thank you. I’m to- I mean _he_ wants to pay you f’r it. Not right to take somethin’ f’r nothin’ like.” The youngster fidgeted as Gwaine’s lips twitched.

The physician’s apprentice shook his head, “Forget it, really, we’re not in need of it, and that one’s easy to make if you know how. Before I came to Camelot I’d never _seen_ a physician, and little coin. Pay me by helping someone else.” He grinned, “Aww, and you got me Trixie, hello girl.” He stroked her nose and simply asked Gwaine without turning from the mare, “Same place today?”

With the kid having scarpered Gwaine grinned and nodded, “Aye, what Princess wants, he usually gets. Mount up, we’ve a lot to cover today.”

“Like I don’t always.” Grouched Merlin as he slung the coat over.

“Obviously, but this is new. Need a boost?” Concern flickered across Gwaine’s face as he noted the remaining stiffness in Merlin’s movements, it stung his pride enough to prompt him into moving faster, muttering denials.  
“Fine, let’s go, I could use a break from the castle anyway, lead the way _Sir_ Gwaine.” Merlin smiled genuinely, deciding to at least enjoy the ride out.

 

Gwaine set a fast pace and Merlin followed, enjoying the freedom as the scenery rushed by them. It was soothing, though he could have done without the jostling about, Kilgarrah never had such trouble. He was pretty sure that if he complained about it to the dragon though the bastard would find it amusing. Sympathy wasn’t his strong point. Letting his mind drift Merlin didn’t try to make conversation on the journey. A short enough journey, but now that he was paying attention he could feel the difference in his bones much sooner. Perhaps it was his magic recognising the reinforced wards, or just a familiar path, but this time he didn’t have to concentrate to find the way when Gwaine asked him to take over. The glade was empty too, so Isildur had kept his word, relief flooded Merlin. He needed the break. Gwaine wouldn’t demand he be Emrys to him, or that he be _less_ than he was either. He felt more human with his friend; more real.

Dismounting gracelessly as his legs protested Merlin grabbed the coat and gauntlets and rested a hand against her neck, “Go on girl, stay close, there’s clover that way.”

Gwaine was standing with his arms folded, a pile of weapons and chainmail at his feet.

“So are you going to tell me what you’re carrying or do I have to guess?”

“What? There’s nothing.”

“Just ‘cause I can’t _see_ it doesn’t mean it’s not there mate. What are you holding?”

“Dammit Gwaine! Why? How did you not say anything before.”

“Waiting till you couldn’t pretend not to hear me, plus I’m assuming you had a reason to not want it seen somewhere else. It’s not like you don’t have experience in keeping things quiet for a reason and sharing what doesn’t matter. Don’t pout, I get it. The connection without the risk. Gets draining though, doesn’t it. Not at first, but over time.”

Merlin watched his friend warily, listening, “I’m not about to grab whatever it is mate, relax.”

Nodding, Merlin exhaled heavily, “You’re right. I never really let myself think about that part of ‘after’ it wasn’t my secret alone, but it got heavier over time. Wasn’t too bad at first, especially when there was Will back home, but when he was gone it was only Mum and Gaius. Alright, there _is_ something I brought with me, but you have to promise not to laugh first, ok?”

Gwaine curiosity increased but he just raised a brow at Merlin “Now that it a promise I can’t make mate, without knowing what I’m committing to. I will do my best, and if it’s too funny I’ll let you explain. Good enough?” Merlin snorted knowing it was as good as he was going to get from the rogue.

“Fine. Last night I was down in the vaults, and Lachlan showed me something, gave it to me, you’re one of only four people- five- who know what I am, one can’t know about this, one is in Ealdor, and I am not about to show Geoffrey things stolen from the vaults. Yet. Arthur is too fancy to ask an opinion of first; despite the similarities of initial exposure you are much more _balanced._ Gods it’s painful to even say that.” Merlin closed his eyes, not as painful as _this_ he thought. He felt like bloody Morgana asking for opinions on _clothes_. “I’d appreciate your honest thoughts on these Gwaine.”  
Deciding he might as well use the practice for more than fighting without magic Merlin opened his eyes first, looking at Gwaine as his eyes flashed gold, removing the concealment from the coat as he held it and the gauntlets out.”

It took Gwaine under a minute to grasp their significance as he reached for them. “Bloody hell Merlin, why would I laugh? You got fed up wearing someone else’s armour huh?”

“What?” Merlin’s looked appalled, “ _No,_ I just- I mean it’s a part of who I am and almost everything is gone, and Lachlan wanted me to take it, said it was his own.”

“Oh I just bet he did. Merlin? What exactly did this ghost of yours _say_ about these items?”

“That they weren’t exactly magic but useful, only the Dragonlords wore them, they carried symbols of their Houses, and my Father’s was lost. Seems he shortened his for the fun stuff.”

“Riiiight.” Gwaine smirked, “That’s an unusual sort of cord in the lacing mate, I don’t think I’ve seen it in use before.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin bit out sharply. “Don’t mess with me. Not about _this.”_ Gwaine cleared his throat and sobered, acknowledging Merlin’s discomfort. “That cord there is priceless. They weren’t only _worn_ by Dragonlords because of the emblems or some petty rank thing, they _can only ever be worn by a Dragonlord_ because they were gifts made by no standard human to be yours alone. There’s no maker’s mark because none was needed.

They are _bound_ to your kin. You lot were strange, a part of two realms at the same time, straddling the worlds of men and magic. Creatures of the Old Religion yet mortal, they kept the little kings in balance here. This cord here is unicorn hair, and freely given I’d say or right now you’d be trying to incinerate it for the darkness. The coat itself might not be magic, but these were given as gifts to powerful men who were deemed worthy, it _recognises_ magic. Your magic.” Gwaine ran his hand along it and smiled, “High quality leather underneath, it’s last a _long_ time, well crafted, and the split here will still allow you to ride with some protection from the weather. I’d say that within the House symbols there are runes, intended to soak in the magic of the wearer like a sort of cocoon. It’s empty, but you, _you leak,_ going around you spill magic everywhere you go, hell Merlin, with _your_ power, it’d be basically wearing a shield. You’ve been had mate. Dragonlord ghostie man was telling the truth about it, just not the _whole_ truth, no wonder Uther kept it. I’ve only seen the technique used a couple of times, up North, and as far to the West as you can get before falling into the see. No idea how it works or why, only that it did, and the guy was a decent fighter. This sort of carving with that level of detailing on the dragons head and knotwork is done by a true master, I’d love to see what _your_ House symbol is but this one is better than mine.” Gwaine grinned at his friend, “Go on. Chuck the gloves over.”

Merlin did, irritated the he hadn’t pushed for better information last night, “Ok, can’t tell you anything about these than the look warm and much comfier than anything I get these days. The druid you recognised can help much more.”

“You actually see the drawbacks of raw steel?” Merlin shouldn’t have been surprised he thought, of all of them it was Gwaine who had fought with little protection and _survived_ long enough to get here, and Percival who fought sleeveless most of the time. Elyan might be a peasant but he was also a smith. His relationship with metal was unusual.   
“Aye mate, I do. Less flexible, cold in winter, but not all of us have such effective long distance weaponry as you, They’ve plenty of attractions too, and I don’t much fancy losing a hand.  Now concentrate, coat on, and lets get those knives out. See if you can fight with that over a gambeson any better than full armour.” Gwaine picked it up and shoved it towards a rather stunned looking Merlin. Fortunately slightly shocked Merlin was more cooperative than obstinate Merlin demanding answers so it didn’t take as long as the knight expected and he followed the directions for stretching before trying anything challenging, Gwaine running through the basic warm up new knights did with him. Satisfied that Merlin wouldn’t immediately tear something he nodded and crossed the clearing, unsheathing his own sword.

“Right, draw your knives, smoothly, quietly.”

It was easier than the day before, but he could feel his muscles protesting as he used the same movements. “Good. Now come at me, try and land a hit.”

Merlin paused, “What, just _come at you_ , what if I hurt you.”

Gwaine smirked. “Mate you’re not allowed to use magic, trust me. I won’t let you actually damage me. I just want to see what your skills really are when no-one is paying attention and you aren’t hiding. Now _go!”_ Huffing Merlin allowed that yes, without magic he probably didn’t stand much of a chance against either Gwaine or Arthur in a fight between steel, and relaxed. Finding his centre, Merlin attacked. Gwaine blocked him easily, dancing out of reach when Merlin thought he had him. They continued in much the same way for what felt like hours to Merlin. Battling with magic might be tiring but it didn’t usually _hurt_ so much. Just as Merlin was trying to work out which way to fall and concede defeat Gwaine called a halt and directed him to sit, drink, and take a break. Sheathing his own weapon the man at next to the sprawled warlock.

“Alright, that was good, your footwork needs serious work, but you’re fast, and starting to move _with_ the knives not against them, that’ll help with flow, actually dancing might help improve things. You leave yourself open too often, drawing back isn’t actually natural to you is it? You are better at defence than offence with blades. Is it the same with your magic?” There was no accusation in Gwaine’s voice, just the tone of enquiry of a tutor trying to gauge his students skills.

Merlin winced, “Not really. Magic is something that I don’t have a huge variation in strength to weakness. Defensive and offensive are both equally good, healing is weaker, um, I can track, cast my mind I suppose, see what’s ahead, but rarely have visions of the future, I try to avoid those. I don’t like to kill with it, but have done. Far too many times. I prefer to knock people unconscious if they don’t have a deep conviction to kill my friends.”  
“Are you the reason for our very enthusiastic, very _loyal_ trees then?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the frequent head injuries or unconscious collapse of certain knights.”

  
“No, they do that all by themselves.” Merlin shook his head chuckling. “Admittedly convenient in the past, but I’d really prefer you were all more careful. Head injuries are tricky. You can never be certain of the recovery with them, and damage can take time to show. No more, you hear me?” Merlin let the concern that he usually pushed away show.

“ _Yes_ _dear._ ”  Gwaine rolled his eyes, voice dripping sarcasm.

Merlin’s expression soured. “You lot really should be more careful you know. I've lost enough people already and Gwaine, I swear, I will drag you back from Avalon to kill you again myself if you recklessly get yourself killed for nothing.”

Gwaine softened. “I promise that if I ever do leave you in that way too soon it will be for a very good reason, and you will be beside me or fighting for the same cause, OK? I won't promise you that I will not be reckless, or impulsive. We both know I can’t stick to it; and I can't promise I won't die, but it will always be _with you._ Now stop with the mushiness before I am forced to punch you or do something equally physical to prove my manhood!”

Merlin shoved the man away, the seriousness dissipating. “Fuck, don't you dare punch me with those bloody metal gauntlets! It's _you_ and I am not in hiding anymore, so you'll bloody regret trying.”

Gwaine dropped a hand to his shoulder with a smile, “Come on, time for a dook in the river, and then we’ll go back to face them all. I'll be waiting for you tonight. Who do you need to see before then?”

Merlin grimaced. “Lancelot. He's a good man, but the whole thing is rather complicated, and I don’t know how much to explain.”

His friend frowned seriously, “That it is. For now, leave my own story out of it, keep him focused; the man’s a good defender and cares greatly for you.  Anyone else?”

Merlin sighed, “I _was_ hoping to see Lord Geoffrey but I think looking at the books first might be more efficient. Arthur needs some time to think without me present, and when I speak to the old man I want to be surer of myself and which questions I require the answers to. Easier to avoid mistakes and regrets that way. Arthur will need me for late duties, but after that I’m going home to do reading and to set the medicines for morning to steeping. When I’ve actually done more than glance at the books I’ll call Kilgarrah, so tonight is free, or as free as I ever get. Are you going to tell me what you were doing with Gaius last night.”

Gwaine’s expression darkened. “Asking questions. He has suspicions about things, but I’ve made clear my policy regarding secrets. He suspects my parentage, but not that I am aware of it all; has concerns about my intentions towards _you_ , and disliked my pointing out that you are an adult, and despite being an idiot, are no fool. Was willing to discuss some aspects of Camelot’s history with me after some very specific questioning, it was worth doing. Why?”

“He was just- not _different_ , but not what I was expecting this morning is all.”   
  
“Aye, I know. It’s come as a bit of a shock to all of you in different ways. I think he’ll at least be a bit distracted from your scheming with Arthur for a bit though.”

“Should I ask?” Merlin raised an eyebrow, wondering what his friend had managed to pull _this time._

“Not tonight. Tonight we rest. Fuck knows we deserve that much!”

Merlin nodded wanly, “Not to sound like some insecure kid, but would you mind staying tonight? My room’s just not _mine_ yet. Bed’s big enough to share, or I can take the floor, but I’m alone enough, and I’d got used to coming home to _someone_ . Not riveting conversation or delicious food, but having someone who didn’t look through me or see a _mere servant_ makes things more bearable, if you’re interested in coming by some nights.”

“You’re no ‘mere servant’ Merlin, you never were, and frankly you make a terrible servant by nature, even _they_ agree. The ones that don’t idolise you fear you.”   
_“Fear me?!”_

“Well sure. You went out without weapons to face a dragon, have argued with all three royals, escaped the dungeons more times than some knights know you’ve been in there. You are a contradiction, and you always return. Not unscathed, but every time. Then you get back in the training field with a pissed off prince for you being missing knowing he’ll beat you around the ring and try to cover up his relief you are still alive. You’re a bit mad mate. There’s all _sorts_ of rumours about you pair, never mind who you’re all fucking or not, the only thing that isn’t suggested is magic, and I’m fairly certain it’s because that’s illegal.”

“Gods Gwaine, how do you even _know that_?!” Gwaine grinned shark-like,

“Well Bertha in the kitchens is _very talkative_ , and Fin doesn’t do well with long silences, and Annie from the laundry is a bit in awe of you. Turns out _some people_ believe I may be a little irresponsible with my pay and so more likely to place bets. Costs me, but an excellent source of information and gossip notes, don’t you think?” Gwaine winked at him.

“You are _diabolical._ You know that?”

Gwaine shrugged. “Maybe; but diabolical _and alive._ Can’t argue it doesn’t work.”

Privately Merlin agreed, but still growled, “And you have _got to_ stop seducing the servants.”

“Merlin, I have _never_ engaged with anyone against their will and never will. Most servants are so used to nobles trying to take what isn’t theirs it’s novel to be _invited_ , and they are far less shy with their own approaches than other people. I’ll always respect folk’s limits, but I’m not going to turn down an offer of a couple of warm nights with someone keen without a reason. Not really the type for taking a wife, am I?”

Merlin raised a brow, “I thought you were the type for ‘do they have a pulse?’ actually. Didn’t know you had a screening process, though you certainly manage to glean information very usefully.”

Gwaine looked aggrieved, “‘Course I do. Everyone has a screening procedure. Mine’s no-one looking for the happily ever after I can’t offer. No one who’ll actually _love me,_ I need the element of danger and know it. Calm doesn’t suit me; and I never really stopped moving until Camelot- not as an adult anyway. Wasn’t so much an option before, and it was either someone who was only looking for a tumble, or someone who’d run with me. Not many folk happy to do that without a full plan.”

Merlin groaned, “Aye. Well, I always did think escape plans were overrated.”

“Nooo, _you_ preferred escape unexpected explosions or fires!”

Merlin was only mildly surprised now when Gwaine let things slip, “That was _one time_ Gwaine!”

“You were pissed at the pair of us for butting heads and not seeing you. I hadn’t expected to see you both there. Just as well they’d no fucking idea who you were or things would have been far messier and you’d have been better guarded.”

“Being captured is never part of any plan.”

Gwaine looked at Merlin disbelievingly, “Ok, so no _good_ plan includes being captured by the enemy.”

“Uhuh. Better. We never did thank you for that fire though, and should have, after all, without _that_ we’d all have been ‘pushing up daisies’ was it? Not enough to satisfy even her ladyship.”

Merlin cringed, “Dammit. Do you think she’d notice if I cheated?”

Gwaine paused, “Well I suppose that depends on whether she knows you have magic or not.”

“No. Not yet anyway.”

“Then as a one off I can’t see any reason _not_ to, you’re simply prioritising orders from the king over hers.”

The warlock sighed, “I’m not sure where they stand on that right now. Once it was clear, and I could more or less assume Arthur’s support for Gwen’s demands or instructions, with her caring for Uther they were spending more time together- at least before this.

Lancelot makes things untidy. I don’t know how to deal with this one, they all have their reasons, frankly I’ve no idea what Gwen wants anymore, and I’m not sure she knows either. Did you know she used to fancy me? Morgana even tried to encourage that. Weird in some ways but she was well acquainted with Court rules. When she was married off to whoever was useful she could probably take her maids, no guarantee, but then they’d belong not to her but her husband. She cared enough back then not to want that for Gwen. Arthur and Gwen have stability and potential, and she and Lance have chemistry and a shared understanding of life from growing up and living as peasants. It’s what she expected for life.”

“You never pursued her or took the offer?” The knight looked honestly curious but without any visible opinion.

Merlin snorted, “Too many lies to keep track of Gwaine, and as you said, danger. They had to be ready to run, always, anyone I _warmed_. Gwen had too many ties here, was too honest, and for your ears only, I grew up a _real_ bastard. Not some fancy king’s half-breed, an honest to gods afterthought, unwelcome to all but mum, and stopping her from finding someone else to love her. We almost starved too many winters and she went without before I was old enough to understand and refuse her rations. I can’t risk doing the same to some innocent girl. Or child, however unintentionally. They’d inherit my talents, one way or another on top of the usual stigma. I was born with a price on my head, no fault of my parents really but it isn’t a burden I’d want to saddle someone else with.”

 

Gwaine nodded slowly, knowing that Merlin wasn’t big on sharing things about his past for good reason, “Makes sense, you’re a better man than many.” Merlin grunted something like acknowledgement and avoidance.  “Hmm. Do we know what Lance wants.”

Merlin sighed deeply, “Yes.” He wished he didn’t. Ignorance would truly be bliss in this.

“Ah. What about Princess?”

It was a risky question Gwaine thought. He’d never interfered between Merlin and Arthur, most of the time they seemed to him like brothers, but then every so often there would be intense looks or ‘moments’ that didn’t seem very _brotherly_. Whatever they were Merlin currently was the person closest to the Prince, first to see him in the morning, last at night, and when the man took a wife, as every king _must_ it would be difficult for them both to adjust.

“Fuck knows. It _was_ her, I _think_ it’s still her, but they are less firey together than before. Quieter. He still needs someone sensible, cool headed to balance him out. Gwen provides that.”

Gwaine nodded, “Plus she is already on the council of the round table and she’s familiar with Camelot. Convenience.”

The warlock frowned, “Not really, It would be going against the fundamental class system and ranks that have been followed for generations. Look, I’ve met most of the princesses around here and served them, and there’s not a single one so far that’s safe and sane. No more mad-women in the crown of Camelot thanks. One is more than enough.”

“Please tell me you are talking about the Witch.”

Merlin glared. “Hell yes, who else?”  
“No one,” Gwaine replied too quickly. “So you think Gwen _should_ be Queen with Princess?”

Merlin pressed his lips together, “I think that they should be allowed to choose who they want, not have to try and jump through ridiculous hoops, and wed to please a bunch of fusty old men who it doesn’t really effect. Uther has tried to force both his kids into what would have been deeply unhappy unions, even the ones where killing them wasn’t the intent, and prohibited more. It shouldn’t matter what life a man was originally born to. Though I’m also against marrying as young as is common in some places, and less concerned than some about specific combinations.”

“Can’t argue with any of that. If we could, I’d vote for you to be king. Or law maker. Those there are laws I could get behind.”

Merlin chuckled, “You would. All we have to do now is convince them to instate voting as a part of life outwith the council.”

Gwaine sniggered, “I’m sure we could persuade them.”

“Fuckoff, there’s no way. I’ll be casting elaborate, colourful spells in the great hall legally before they accept _voting_ or democracy _._ Or any of the other ‘ocracies’ in Geoffrey’s books.”

 

“Almost definitely, I mean that _is_ the plan, isn’t it.” Gwaine stated calmly.

 

Merlin tilted his head, seeming distracted, “I suppose, it’s just that I’m so used to working in the shadows, what if I can’t do what is necessary openly? What if losing the advantage of surprise means our defeat? What if Arthur _sees_ , I mean _really sees_ what I can do and changes his mind?”

Gwaine groaned, “ _Merlin,_ you’ve told him honestly about this, you haven’t lied and told him it’s not dangerous or can’t be used in battle, you’ve already confessed to having blood on your hands like we do. Princess can be a self absorbed prick about many things but he knows the complications that come with power, and having to make decisions that affect others. He knows the making mistakes is inevitable, even with advice- which you did not have the benefit of. Kilgarrah might be wise and experienced, but he lacks a human perspective which you must wrestle with, and Gaius...well… He will forgive you. Prince Arthur murdered my brat of a half brother, which complicated things, but he was too young to know his full options. He brought famine and drought on his people, and you know that had long term, unfixable consequences. So does he. Men and women like you pair have greater triumphs and greater regrets than small ones like me. He is _not_ going to change his mind. Your refusal to claim it’s all harmless and benign is actually a point in favour of trusting you.”

 

“Oh gods, Gwaine, there’s something horrific in the vaults I really wasn’t expecting.”

“Well yeah, of course there is.” Gwaine frowned, “What is it exactly?”

“No idea. That’s the problem. A curse with blood magic set by a high priestess who must now be dead.”

“Riiiight, aye, that’s not good news, blood curses never are. How do you know she’s dead though.”

Merlin sighed, “Because it’s been there a _long_ time and when I killed Nimue she was the last High Priestess.”

“Ah; and now you are caught in the trap of self doubt.” Gwaine tried not to roll his eyes.

  
The warlock closed his eyes in frustration, “I just don’t know where to start with this one.”   
Gwaine opted for being the calm voice this time. “Well, start with prioritising. Is it harming Arthur?”

“No, not as far as I can judge.”

 “Alright. Then it comes behind you doing some personal research about your history and learning important skills to meet the Catha with. Then you speak to _them_ about complex blood magic and rituals, if rumours are correct then they’ll be better able to help than the Druids, and less intimidated by you, if only slightly. Then you won’t accidentally fuck it up, and they’re oath bound to serve the dragonlords until the appearance of Emrys, their loyalties won’t be split.”

Merlin remained silent until Gwaine draped an arm around him and squeezed a shoulder and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, “Thanks. Really, thank you, for everything.”

“Nothing to thank me for mate, it’s what friends do, or so some idiot in the wind taught me.”

Merlin snorted softly, “You should stop taking instruction from idiots, it’s bad for you.”

“Depends on the idiot I guess.” Gwaine grinned at him, disturbed when he saw the darkness settle in his friend’s eyes.

“Maybe. I’m bad for people though.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes and nudged him, “Nah, you just attract the type who seek out danger all by themselves. You think I didn’t make my own enemies all these years? Hell, even Lance has those.”

Merlin bit his lip wondering if he should speak or not, but so far the results had in general been positive, at least with this man. “Will didn’t.”

His face was easy for Gwaine to read, “He was your best friend, huh?”

“Aye. My first friend. Only friend for a long time.” sighed Merlin. He had avoided talking about Will’s loss even with Gaius, and his own personal tragedy had been overshadowed for the others in Camelot by other things.

“I bet he was the only other adrenaline junky in the village and you both goaded each other into more extreme actions and riskier pranks. He knew about you, didn’t he?” Gwaine smirked,

“Sounds like you met him on your travels.”

“Nope. Wasn’t lucky enough. We make our own choices, even when tangled in destiny, Will knew what he was choosing. It was a calculated decision, he just decided that you were worth the risk. Think Merlin, did it seem like he regretted it?”

He shrugged guiltily, “No. Not as much as he should have, but he was scared at the end.”

“All men are; it’s the moment you realise how deeply alone you are and who you never told goodbye. It doesn’t mean they’d make different choices. He was young, wasn’t he?”

Tears pricked at the corner of Merlin’s eyes, “Aye. Too young. We all were. I was supposed to be there alone, not with the others.” His voice was thick with the memory.

Gwaine sighed, wishing his friend had spoken to _someone_ in all the years he’d been in Camelot about things that truly mattered. “You’d have done the same for him, wouldn’t you.”

Merlin answer was instant, “Yeah. If I’d known.”

The knight nodded, squeezing a shoulder again. “So respect _his_ choice and his courage. It wasn’t you who killed him, or his knowing about you that cost him his life or it would have been much earlier, yeah? How many risks did he take daily? You seek it out instinctively Merlin, people like that, so does Princess. If you were afraid then he would never have kept you around by choice. If danger didn’t attract you then you’d never have been in the tavern to meet me, or have followed him on quests. Leon wouldn’t have got to know you, Morgana would have fallen sooner to the darkness- don’t think I’m buying that was an overnight thing, or that you withdrew the moment she made decisions that endangered you. You have to let go of the guilt that is not yours to carry.”

 

“You make it sound so simple.” Merlin’s smile was laced with a bitterness that hurt Gwaine’s heart. “It is. Not to let go of guilt or regret for choices you have made, or the learning and memory of people, but you can’t carry all of it, and those that were never your responsibility or fault.”

“You have so much faith in me. In us.” The warlock’s tone reflected his awe and fear of it.

“‘Course I do. What else should I have faith in if I can’t trust you pair?”

“I don’t deserve it Gwaine. What if- what if we _fail?”_ Gwaine looked at the barely disguised agony in his friend’s face, “Then we will go down _fighting_ , leaving legends in our wake to inspire men through the ages to stand for justice and fight for what is right. Don’t you think you’re getting out of writing those either, I expect my name to be remembered mate. If you don’t I’ll have to come back and haunt your ass until you do it.”  He winked but Merlin heard the sincerity in his first words. Something inside him loosened as his friend gave him tacit permission to be less than some demigod, to try his hardest and fight to the last breath, but to be _fallible._

No one had ever actually done that before. Certainly not since he was named Emrys. The figure of prophecy was meant to instinctively _know_ how to fix everything, always on a tight time limit. He hadn’t even been an adult when than had been demanded of him without warning, and even Gaius hadn’t _really_ accepted that he was both Emrys _and_ 17 and what that meant. It seemed like there had been a mistake, some malfunction with the prophecies for what was expected, but this was what the goddess had presented as a solution, so they’d just have to work something out together.

“Come on, we’ll be late if we dither any more, and I owe you a proper soaking for yesterday.”

\------------------

They were slightly late back, but not enough for Arthur to comment given his own preoccupation.

“How is Leon?” Asked Merlin quietly when they were finally alone in a shielded room.

“Conflicted, but not because of what you might first think.” Arthur sighed. “Sir Leon has been a knight for a long time Merlin. He has _hunted_ many people, and brought many to what was called ‘justice’. It seems he has had doubts for a long time, but he also had orders, and family to protect. Leon is not in disagreement with me and will support us, but he is not ready to know all of it yet. There are years of memories, and nightmares that will come for him first. He must find a way to make his own peace with that, however fragile, before I give him completely opposing orders.

The understanding that this persecution was wrong does not come without cost for men like Leon, and he is... _broken_ tonight. He had already begun quietly overlooking the druids after being healed in their camp and seeing more clearly than I did. I will bring him into a meeting with the more aware members of the round table when he has had a little time to come to terms with his actions and the implications. Leon is loyal to _me_ Merlin, he will not betray us, but to throw you in his face right now would be cruel. If he works it out himself then don’t lie, but I’d prefer to give him a couple of days grace before putting a face and identity to our victims. That’s not to say they should not be _real,_ only that it would be overwhelming. The only reason I haven’t caved under it is because I am almost king and have been raised to deal with similar pressures. Leon has not. Neither were _you_ , but you are _very_ different people, thankfully. Anyway, how was training today? You look terrible.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and groaned, “Painful; but you knew that already. I’m like one giant walking bruise, I’m aching in places I didn’t know I _had,_ and I can’t believe I let you talk me into this in the first place. Bloody sadist.” He appreciated Arthur keeping _him_ out of the discussion with his First Knight, he _liked_ Leon, he really did, but that didn’t mean he was ready to deal with even _more_ attention within Camelot.

Arthur grinned at him, “I did, I just wanted to hear it from you, and nope, there’s no blood. Yet. Gwaine’s being careful. Thorough, but careful. I’m almost disappointed, but I suppose it _does_ maintain your capacity to function as my servant, you really can’t afford to become any less efficient.”

The warlock smirked over at his employer, _“He_ seems to think he’s not allowed to break your toys.”

Arthur leaned back against the table, “Funny, I’m sure I remember giving him explicit permission, _encouragement even,_ to train you properly and not skimp on the effective lessons.”

“Effective.” Merlin said flatly.

“You don’t have much time, pain is effective to train your instinctive physical response faster than if we do it without consequences.” Arthur said seriously.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you _like_ seeing me hurt _sire.”_ Merlin narrowed his eyes.

Arthur sighed. “I enjoy sparring and throwing each other around, but your pain is only amusing when I know there is no _actual_ risk to your wellbeing and safety, alright. Tell me you don’t enjoy watching me fall on my ass on occasion or sport bruises from certain _less wise_ decisions.” He raised a brow in challenge and Merlin reluctantly acknowledged that yes, there were occasions he found his friend’s pain hilarious; but only ever when he was _safe_ in reality. “Fine. You’re still a prat.” He was, after all, trying to give up direct lying.

 

“And you are still a dollophead, but now you’ll be a dollophead with better survival instinct, because clearly you have been missing those for years.”

Merlin hesitated before answering, “Arthur… Thank you. For being my friend, through all of this chaos. For not forcing things we’re neither of us ready to hear, and being willing to ask bigger questions. The whole fucking world changed around us and you haven’t. That means more than I’ll ever be able to explain. I should go before it’s too late to cover the medical rounds, will you need me further tonight sire?” This time he spoke respectfully and it unbalanced Arthur, as it always did when Merlin spoke with deference.

“Um, no, I believe you have other remaining tasks to complete which I granted more importance, I am sure the George will suffice for one night. I expect you at the usual time tomorrow.”

Merlin smiled, it still surprised him to be allowed the time required for all of the _other_ jobs he had to do, mere weeks ago he’d still have had to _do_ the extra, he just wouldn’t have had the time allotted for it.

“Thanks Arthur. I’ll wake you in time, no more dull brass jokes than absolutely necessary. No promises about casual violence after what you pair have inflicted on me. The _wrath of Emrys_ is feared throughout Albion and beyond, don’t you know?”

The Prince shrugged, not looking the slightest bit  intimidated, _“Please_ , you’ve had worse without whining and we both know it; which by the way I expect you to show me and explain one day, when you are ready. I don’t like the look of some of those scars Merlin, I’m no healer, but I know a near fatal wound when I see one, and I was wondering after this afternoon’s discussion with Lord Geoffrey if those were not a major cause of your random days or weeks off. Oh, don’t panic. I haven’t expressed any judgement of Leon for his augmented healing, and clearly I’ve benefited from the same, I can hardly chastise _you_ for using it, especially while _unconscious_. Our archivist explained the lack of control that can occur for certain types of magic users in such situations.” He looked incredulously at Merlin, “Why you didn’t run from this city the first time that happened I’ve no clue.”

“Well, if I was going to scare easily and run it should have been the first day, I arrived the day of an execution.”

“Aaaand _you_ decided to unpack and stay?”

“I was really hungry, and I couldn’t exactly go back to Ealdor.” There were many reasons for that but he wasn’t about to explain _those_ to prat. “I see. One more insanity point for the Merlin scale then. Have you eaten anything today?” Merlin frowned guiltily.

“A couple of apples after training, plenty of water though.” He retrieved the first two books he needed to begin his research when he _did_ get home.

Arthur sighed wearily. “Consider this an order then. You are going to speak to Sir Lancelot, as we agreed, _then_ you are to return to your chambers and consume _at least_ two chunks of bread, with cheese and several slices of the boiled ham the cook has put aside. If you do not, I shall have Gwaine go _twice_ as hard on you tomorrow, pain or no pain, and you will regret not taking care of yourself in ways so basic that a three year old would understand. I will not have you fading away and causing my people cast aspersions on my care of my own household. I cannot exactly expect them to trust me to care for a whole kingdom if one of my own is going hungry, and you are too noisy, unsubtle to go unnoticed.” Arthur managed to make the whole thing sound like he was personally offended and not once admit he cared.

It raised a smile as Merlin took comfort in the familiarity amongst all of the upheaval as he replied sarcastically, “Yes sire, wouldn’t _dream_ of disgracing you by swooning like a maid in tight laces. Goodnight Arthur.”

“Goodnight.” The man didn’t look up as the door to his chambers swung closed but he didn’t need to. After years of such proximity the two men understood each other well enough not to need to be looking to know the other’s expression.

Arthur doubted he’d be getting much sleep that night, he _knew_ Leon wouldn’t. He’d understated Leon’s reaction to Merlin intentionally as he couldn’t fix the past, and Merlin had his own nightmares. No need to add those of the ‘other side’ too.


	39. Chapter 39

Silently promising himself not to fall into a habit of doing so, Merlin conjured a bouquet he knew would please Guinivere, she’d always preferred fragrance to matching colours; most servants did. If he got that out of the way then there would be one less low level distraction.

Having delivered them to a Gwen who’d had to deal with Uther after council he was rather glad she hadn’t been forgotten, and he could focus on dealing with Lancelot. He wasn’t difficult to find, not being prone to spending long nights in the tavern or missing, and Merlin was struck by an unfamiliar sense of awkwardness that he was unaccustomed to associating with the most noble of the knights. There had been enough nights that Lance had kept him from stepping too far over the invisible line to come back, taking a deep breath he knocked, the short moments  spent waiting for an answer seemed to stretch out between them. For all Lancelot had pressed Merlin to _tell_ Arthur as long as they’d known each other he wasn’t sure exactly what the man expected the outcome to be. As the door opened Merlin was met by a wide smile and pulled into an enthusiastic hug by the usually less effusive man, the door swinging shut behind him before he could think.

“Congratulations! I take it he’s not reacted too badly since you’re still breathing and unbanished, told you he wouldn’t! Sit, you’ve been working all day at the least.”

A slow smile spread over Merlin’s features, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you were right after all. There’s still a lot he doesn’t know, a lot for us both, but he _knows_ Lance, he knows who I am, what I am, what we are supposed to be together. He hasn’t thrown me in a cell, burned me, or banished me- I had back up plans for _that_ scenario at least but they were complicated.” Forgetting his bruises he slumped down into the chair, receiving a rude reminder that startled a gasp from him and a raised eyebrow from his friend. “He’s getting some sort of perverse satisfaction and revenge by having Gwaine knock seven bells out of me, officially to make a change of position less suspicious and such. I’m not convinced it’s not just to inflict pain on poor, defenceless manservants.” Merlin scowled as Lancelot laughed, “You’re hardly defenceless Merlin, and now the Prince knows it, so there must be some kind of plan. He’d forgive _you_ almost anything I think.”

“Aye, well, we haven’t got to discussing all the various things to forgive yet, one step at a time.”

Lancelot nodded, “So when did _this_ happen? I haven’t seen much of you recently, not even when I made some excuses to drop by the physicians chambers.”

“Not long. You remember that truth spell?”

“The one where you didn’t tell anyone anything? Yeah.”

“It was after that. Not immediately but… things happened. There are certain things that have been hidden from both of us and can only be made sense of if we are working with the truth. It’ll be a long time before we can make sense of it all and entirely put aside the anger and  heal. Arthur is having to deal with realising the truth of what Uther did. I’m- well there are good reasons for my moving out of Gaius’ home.”

“This isn’t just a case of Arthur finding out about _you_ and magic then, huh?”

“It’s- no, it’s not. It’s bigger, this is the beginning of Emrys and the Once and future king. Honestly it’s been a bit overwhelming.”

“A bit?”

“If I actually had the chance to sit and think about things I may not still be sane, but it’s fine, because I don’t, so no time to turn into a crazy person.”

“Waaaay too late for that mate.”

“Weeell…”  
“How long have I known you? First time I stayed in your home you went off to face a griffin on the off chance you might be able to defeat it and used blue lightning lances in sight of the city. The crazy was never that well disguised.”

Merlin snorted as Lancelot held out a mug of surprisingly palatable ale. “Fine. Still, let’s not knock the sanity of the amazingly powerful warlock. There is a seriously disturbing pattern in the lack of those two things occurring together. I still fear that. More than I ever feared Arthur’s response to the truth. I can protect him- protect all of you- from almost anything, but not from myself.”

“That isn’t going to be you, my friend. Ever. You’re _Merlin;_ you’re also the best man I’ve ever known, and the bravest.” Merlin shifted, wincing as the bruises throbbed, “Did you tell Arthur yourself in the end or did he catch you?”

Sighing, Merlin drank deeply, “I told him… and showed him. I think he would have figured it out if I hadn’t, some of the questions he’s been asking would have led to him discovering things eventually.”

Lancelot chuckled, “I’ve been saying that for years though, they never did.”

“Yeah, that’s actually a little concerning. I mean, he’s an idiot, but he’s not completely stupid in other respects, it’s a weirdly specific form of idiocy.” Merlin frowned in thought.

“He’s not the only one.” Lancelot rolled his eyes, having been witness to many of Merlin’s crazier choices since meeting him.  
“How is that any _less worrying?”_ the Warlock exclaimed.

One of Lancelot’s eyebrows climbed higher as he replied, “It really isn’t. Working together though I think you’ll catch each others major blind spots. How does it feel? Not hiding.”  
There was a pause before Merlin began speaking in a quiet and controlled voice, “It’s amazing Lance, more than I could ever have expected. Draining, and I feel _naked_ all the time, open, but it’s not _bad_ . I’m still anticipating the constant threat, waiting for the blow to fall, even though he’s made clear there’s no scheme to do that, unless it’s to get Gwaine to kill me slowly. My emotions are all over the place, but that’s not just from finally being honest with Arthur. When I’m spoken to it’s _me,_ not a shadow, my name isn’t just a handle for half of myself and I hadn’t even realised how fragmented things were. It’s amazing and terrifying at the same time.”   
Lancelot grinned, seeing the wonder in Merlin’s eyes, his friend had been hiding his whole life, even the few who had known of his magic hadn’t been told, it hadn’t been information he shared willingly.  He’d half expected his young friend to refuse to tell anyone at all even if it consumed him. The injuries he’d accepted rather than give himself away hadn’t instilled confidence, but Lancelot had never given up on him, deciding that one person knowing and accepting him was better than none, and likely the only way to foster a sense in his friend of safe sharing being possible.

“I’m proud of you. I think you’d rather have faced a monster unarmed than that conversation. So what now. Is he going to lift the ban?”

Merlin’s smile dropped away, “Yeah. Yeah he is, just not right away.”  
Lancelot was quiet for several minutes. “Do you trust him? Not to cast doubt, but you must have considered his motives for that.”   
Merlin answered him seriously, of course he’d had his moments of doubt. “I trust him. If it’s forced suddenly upon a population of frightened people they’ll fight it; panic, and if he puts it to the council right now his position isn’t secure enough to force their submission, Uther’s still king, if only in name. For it to be accepted and the changes to be lasting it can’t be just some impulsive reaction to finding out about me, or even just that we aren’t all evil. We have to get this right, if we don’t it will cost innocent lives and there’s been too much bloodshed already. There are things I can’t tell you, but you know that, there always are, and I probably owe much of my sanity to you being ok with that.”

Lancelot cringed at the idea of a less sane Merlin wandering about. “Are you going to tell anyone else now that Arthur knows?”

“Slowly. Two guessed, both of whom were on our last quest, so with Gwaine and Percy that’s a handful who know now. I can’t handle any more than that right now, it’s a big enough change to get used to as it is. I don’t think Arthur’s sanctioning open discussion of any of it yet, too dangerous and it could get people hurt, so this is definitely something that remains quiet an is left between the five of us. At least for now.” Lancelot nodded, he wasn’t the gossiping type anyway, and there were few enough people he’d be willing to discuss important matters with.

“You told Arthur I knew then? He was not gentle in training and it certainly _seemed_ personal.”   
Merlin sighed, “I told him. I’m so fed up of secrets Lance, he asked me outright, and I over rode my strongest instinct to lie. If I hadn’t it would make it easier to do the same next time. Sorry about making you collateral for that. You want help for the sore spots?”

Lancelot shook his head, looking over his worst injuries “No, there’s nothing serious and I suspect the Prince might just notice in the morning and decide I’d skipped the lesson, the second time round it would be twice as uh- _enthusiastic_ discipline. Better just to accept the first round I think and let it wear off naturally. Could have been worse; he could have followed the current law for someone harbouring a sorcerer.”

Rolling his eyes Merlin retorted “Warlock; and that one is going to be changing first. Apparently it would be problematic for the Regent to technically be a traitor. So I’m told.”  
“Does he have a plan for actually changing that?” Lancelot asked curiously, he disliked Merlin’s default methods as they always involved some measure of deception and it went against his grain. He respected the necessity, but preferred to confront things honestly.

Merlin smiled, “Yeah, he does, and it’ll work. Uther’s an evil bastard, but he wasn’t actually that bad at managing people, and he did teach Arthur that much.”

“Good. I look forward to no longer being a criminal of the highest order.” Lancelot nudged his friend and smiled.

“I look forward to no longer endangering your life by simply knowing your name. Change is coming Lance. We just have to be patient a little bit longer.” Really it had already begun, but Merlin tried to keep his involvement of Lancelot in subterfuge and plotting to emergencies, of which he’d had plenty. The knight was more cautious than his magical friend, who managed to find positive things even in the darkest places, but he hoped that Merlin’s optimism wasn’t misplaced. He’d urged the man to be honest with Prince Arthur, but he’d also seen the man’s quick temper on more than a few occasions and been concerned about the immediate reaction.

His expression must have shown something as Merlin clasped his shoulder tightly forcing Lancelot to look at him, “You’ve always trusted me when it matters Lance; it matters now, this isn’t a way to avoid dealing with me having magic, and I swear that you’ll understand when it’s time. Arthur’s pissed at you hiding this, but he’ll get over it. Maybe plan for a few rough days in training. I really need to deliver the last sleeping draughts now, but I’ll be around. Things are just a bit busy right now, meantime don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Lancelot laughed, “That really doesn’t prohibit much. Be safe Merlin. Please. I’ve put too much effort into keeping you alive for you to throw it away.”

His friend snorted, glad that Lancelot at least hadn’t noticed _that_ aberration yet, “‘Night Lance, see you later.”

Picking up the medicines went more smoothly than he’d anticipated as Gaius was out on call, a note lay next to the potions to explain there was a girl in the lower town running an unexplained fever. Merlin hated fevers. They usually indicated either infection or something transferrable, he hoped it would be a simple case and non contagious, but he’d find out one way or the other in the morning. Maybe Arthur would allow him to try a magical solution if traditional medicine failed the child, though that working would be far safer for them all.

 

As soon as his deliveries were complete Merlin turned towards home, lost in thought as he wandered through winding hallways. When he reached his new chambers it was to find a slightly cleaner rogue knight leaning casually against the wall opposite his door. His confusion showed as Gwaine chuckled, “Not all of us are comfortable and confident opening locked doors mate. I wasn’t exactly in a rush, and there’s little point in being in your room if _you_ aren’t there.” He smiled warmly as Merlin obliged, opening the door and lighting the candles with a wave of his hand and kicking off his work boots.  He frowned, realising he’d forgotten something, “Crap, I didn’t get the food. Do you think he’ll notice?” Merlin looked pitifully at Gwaine, who folded his arms and glowered back, “If he doesn’t I’ll turn you in myself.”

“But the kitchens are _so far away.”_ Merlin whined, “And I’ve not stopped to do so much as breathe all day.”

“Merlin. Don’t make a habit of it, but summon the bloody food and I’ll throw myself under the cart this once and tell cook I nicked it if she asks. Alright?”

“I wonder how long the novelty of keeping me fed will last for the prat.” Merlin smiled at Gwaine bitter-sweet.

Gwaine laid a hand on his shoulders, “He really does care you know. Has done for a long time. Longer I suspect than even _he_ knows.”

Merlin shook his head huffing, “Ach there was one time when we’d not known each other that long, he was still an entitled arse, so much more than he is now, and he tricked me to prevent me drinking what we both believed was poison. As it turned out it was only a strong sleeping draught and test of his character but of course I know he cares more than he shows, even if I forget sometimes. More than he _wants_ to I think, about all of us. Uther taught both of his kids that caring was weakness, gentleness would always be punished and betrayed, love was the ultimate vulnerability. I can’t argue that last one, but it damaged both badly. He never showed either of them care openly, not really, and I don’t think either Arthur or Morgana learned how themselves. Morgana learned better, but she had Gwen from twelve. Arthur always adds something to try and cover up kindness or counteract it, as though if he doesn’t it might be spotted. Stupid really, every peasant wants a king who can care for more than gold.”

 

Gwaine watched his friend carefully, he understood more than most Merlin’s experience of not fitting in any particular place, and the frustration of living behind a mask, even if it was less. “Every man has regrets Merlin. I suspect that some of _his_ involve neglect of you. Not Arthur the Crown prince, Arthur the man. Don’t count on it wearing off, you are a vital part of his- _our_ plan for the future of Albion and you know it. Perhaps he’ll stop nagging you to eat at some point, but it’ll be a change in details. Not that it doesn’t warm the cockles of my shrivelled heart to see him finally trying to look after you like you’ve been caring for the Princess for years.”

“Thanks, I think.” Merlin shoved Gwaine without heat and muttered the spell to have the food from the kitchens appear on his table. “No chance of you fetching me some mead?” The knight asked in jest.

Merlin rolled his eyes and they flashed gold as a mug appeared in front of his friend. “It’s a one off Gwaine, and I expect a decent rub down after taking frivolous risks like that you know.” Dropping the finger he’d been pointing at the mug Merlin raised a brow at the knight and smirked before starting on his supper.

“Oh I can do better than merely ‘good’ mate, don’t you malign my skills, I _know_ you’ve heard the rumours about _all_ of us.” Gwaine grinned, and Merlin laughed, “Aye, but you’ve got to be careful about trusting those rumours Gwaine, some would have it that I’m the prince’s true love, or Leon has never worn a dress. It’s a dangerous business trusting loose gossip.”

Gwaine smiled lightly, “You can trust this…. You know, Leon actually has the legs for a dress, the beard might look a bit out of place though.”  
Merlin shook his head, smiling, “Ooh it did. I was rather impressed he did it though, unfortunately that might encourage the others to consider it a fair plan in future endeavours.”

“True love?” Asked Gwaine casually, carefully.

A hint of bitterness touched Merlin’s smile as he replied equally carefully, “Ah, the Triple Goddess is a jealous mistress. I’m not sure that I get to have both a destiny _and_ a true love. I’m not even completely convinced tonight the Once and Future king does. Seems like kind of an either-or deal. Maybe after.

There _was_ one girl, a pretty young druidess, we almost ran away together, but she- well she’s a Guardian now, the Lady of the Lake they call her, but I knew her as Freya. Morgana is said to be the darkness to my light and the hatred to my love, I’m working on understanding that, but I don’t fully know yet. There was a time that I thought she might have been more, times I almost believed she _saw me,_ before everything. I could never fairly offer someone my heart though. It would be false; Destiny staked her claim long before my birth, and she owns me completely. _Arthur_ owns me. Not my heart but… it’s hard to explain. I love him, but not like _that_ , like he and Lance love Gwen, it’s more like we are two parts of something bigger, designed to fit together. We need each other in a way that is impossible to explain. A bit like I need Kilgarrah and he needs _me. L_ overs are _wanted_ , _appreciated,_  but not a part of that one whole, they are extra details and embellishments to the base of the tapestry.” Merlin sighed in frustration, “I am doing a truly horrible job of trying to explain this. I’d actually quite _like_ a true love; but if I was to _have one_ , it would undoubtedly split my focus or shift it, and that is not allowed, or so it would seem. I’m not sure it would be healthy for Arthur and I to be without any other influencers or entangled in any more ways anyway, even if he _was_ interested in men- which he’s never given any indication of despite apparently being aware enough of my flexibility to declare his intention of also rewriting _that_ law and suggested I seduce the executioner. I belong to Albion and any partner would have to be willing to accept whatever was left over from Destiny. There’s not many keen to take that kind of offer mate. Even if it _wasn’t_ currently a crime punishable by death.”

“That’s a high price to pay right enough, but your leftovers are pretty damn precious. Not everyone needs the fairytale ‘one true love’ to be loved or feel valued though, some are happy without the _ever after_. Nor does it always have to mean giving someone lots of time and attention. They do say it’s about quality over quantity. Gotta tell you though, Destiny sounds like a bitch, I don’t suppose you know a guy who can tell her to fuck off?”

Merlin snorted at Gwaine’s matter of fact declaration, “Not successfully. I mean you could, but not follow it with continued survival.  You think Morgana’s a woman out for blood and vengeance? That witch doesn’t have a patch on Destiny, both of whom are kinder than Fate. Who doesn’t seem to have quite so personal a grudge holding ability, but clearly doesn’t give a damn about collateral damage. You know what? There are too many factors in my life that don’t understand humanity or emotions.”

His friend shook his head in wonderment, “Definitely. Really Merlin, _how_ are you still sane?”

“Not sure. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, it’s really very subjective, living in the moment is sometimes the only way to survive a day, but I’ve at least had practise.”

Gwaine looked troubled but pushed his concern back, “You need mead. Or ale. Something; and sleep.”

Merlin nodded, not arguing with him, which in itself was concerning, “Gimme your mug then.” a long hand was extended expectantly and Gwaine complied as Merlin muttered what must be Old Tongue for ‘refill’ judging by the renewal of liquid. It was too much, he couldn’t _not_ laugh at that, and the sound broke through Merlin’s morose thoughts sharply enough to startle a reciprocal laugh from the man.

The food and drink gone Merlin moved towards the bed and was shocked when Gwaine knelt down and remove socks that even _Merlin_ could admt were probably toxic. Standing up the man tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and kicked his own boots off, “Come on then, I can’t exactly sort out knotted, abused muscles with you in layers, can I?” Merlin jaw tightened as he fought back the instinct to withdraw, reminding himself of the lack of reaction at the river. “Well I suppose you _do_ have a point to prove, with those much vaunted skills; alright. Fair warning though, it’s the first time anyone’s tried anything like this since the chains and serkets so I don’t know if that’s sensitive of mangled. The nerves in the centre of Nimue’s hit are a little fried.”

“Right, well, thanks for the warning I guess? You can strip and lie your tired ass down any time now you know.” Gwaine sounded slightly exasperated but reigned in his reaction, unwilling to risk alienating Merlin while he was vulnerable.

“I’m moving, I’m moving; you are _insufferable._ ”

“And yet you willingly suffer me, even convincing Princess I was worth it.” Gwaine raised an eyebrow and saw Merlin rolling his eyes hard as he stripped off the tunic, “Yes, and I still question what I was thinking doing such a thing.” Good, thought Gwaine, sarcastic and cheeky Merlin was better than self conscious, awkward Merlin for this. He didn’t like seeing his friend brittle, not that it happened _often,_ no, actually the servant-warlock was tougher than most knights and calmer in a crisis than any of the others, but their new openness meant that many wounds were closer to the surface just now. His defences were in some disarray, and no man liked to feel vulnerable without choice.

Gwaine huffed as Merlin left his breeches in a puddle on the floor, “You officially no longer get to berate me for careless keeping of my chambers and untidiness, I have proof of you doing exactly the same! Ha!”

“Gwaaaine, I can barely lean over to pick shit up at this moment, and taking the damn shirt off was agonising, you said you’d help, not _mock_ the poor, exploited manservant.”

“I can do both, can’t I?” He smiled, “Lie down, find the least uncomfortable position.”

After some shifting Merlin decided that ‘least uncomfortable’ was part of the mocking, and now that he wasn’t distracted by several different demands he noticed that everything was made of pain.  Giving up he lay on his front and looked back at Gwaine, “Alright, there isn’t one, prove to me that there is a point in my making cauldrons of that stuff beyond knight being less short tempered.”  His friend took that as permission and warmed the first oil in his hands as he knelt over Merlin’s thighs. Gwaine had been slightly surprised at the mark left by the serket. The black venom having left its mark where venom had spread as well as if it had been ink but hadn’t given any sign to the man beneath him, beginning with long sweeping strokes, as it seemed that Merlin was somewhat unnaccustomed to that type of touch- or any that wasn’t rather violent. By the solid mass of knots Gwaine suspected that Merlin may well never have had that sort of massage before, but then, who would have offered with him trying to connect while also keeping people at arms length. Under his hands he could feel ridged scars from badly healed wounds, rough tissue, as he tried to avoid pressing too hard on the worst of the recent bruising. As he began to work the taut, knotted muscles further he was pleased to hear the first moans escaping his friend. Merlin tried not to wince as Gwaine  pressed a tender spot, realising that he actually was relaxing; usually he wouldn’t flinch or show pain at all, he was used to that.

“Stop thinking. It’s late. Let go, I’ll stay until morning, you don’t actually have to entertain me, I’m not the Princess. Sleep, Merlin.”

It was too hard to argue, as exhausted as he was from physical training, his usual work, confronting Arthur with several harsh truths, and having several long delayed conversations.

“Ok. Don’t leave the candles burning, fire is a bad way to wake up.” He mumbled, trying not to drool as pain eased and the herbal oil did it’s job, giving up on words as Gwaine’s fingers worked over his shoulders drawing another groan. “Fuck, f’rget it do whatever you want. Don’t care. I’ll put th’fire out…”

_“Sleep you idiot.”_ Merlin’s eyes fell closed and as he succumbed to the darkness there was no fear of the nightmares that were so often waiting, for the first time in longer than he could remember.

Gwaine shook his head at his friend’s stubbornness. Brushing dark hair out of his face Gwaine chuckled softly at the way the ridiculous man was lying sprawled across the bed untidily. It was a rare privilege to see Merlin making himself voluntarily vulnerable and one Gwaine knew to be careful not to abuse. So far he couldn’t actually think of anyone who _hadn’t_ either betrayed, manipulated, or used Merlin, except possibly Lancelot. Even his _mother_ had lied and hidden huge parts of his past.

Trust would likely never come easy to someone who had spent an entire life in hiding, even if friendship or kindness did. Gwaine suspected that Merlin as an enemy would actually be much the same as he was as a friend, full of passion and conviction, but willing to do anything- or almost anything- for those he fought _with._ Even Leon. Who seemed to have a stick up his arse most of the time, but was actually a decent man at the campfire. Maybe he’d improve if Arthur continued to try and breakdown and mould his inner circle.

Stripping to sleeping breeches he extinguished the candles _without_ magic and lay down beside the young warlock. Next time they went out he’s remember to go by the area that rosemary or mugwort grew maybe having a bunch of drying or pickling herbs would help the man feel less displaced. If it would help Merlin, Gwaine would sleep next to fennel and aging red cabbage forever. He wondered as he lay down if the man realised how serious he’d been when he stated he’d have sworn allegiance gladly if he hadn’t already done so to Arthur, as Merlin seemed to shrug it off, amused. Arthur had understood, Gwaine knew, Arthur knew exactly how far he would be willing to go to help or protect Merlin. The prince would probably have done the same but for the fact he was Crown prince of Camelot, and apparently too proud to submit to anyone; at least openly. His loss, thought Gwaine, as he smiled softly and let himself doze.

In the knights quarters _none_ of the other round table members were sleeping. Percival caught in memories, and considering his suspicions of what he was living, who his friends might be; Lancelot wondering what he hadn’t been told _this time_ and the possible consequences.

Leon most of all. His talk with Arthur had been both illuminating and deeply horrifying. He knew that Arthur would not make such huge changes lightly, and trusted that his friend wouldn’t recount that Leon had vomited at some of the revelations that had been shared earlier. The faces he usually only saw in his nightmares taunted him now, especially the young ones; they were always the worst. Trying to reconcile evil and children had never come naturally to him, and as a green knight he had even allowed a couple of them to escape. Merlin reminded him of one of them when he’d first seen him with the horses. A kid like him would never have had access to stables, but he almost seemed to think their mounts were people. The grin was even similar, but he’d never seen a look of terror on Merlin, like the one on the child when he realised he’d been seen magicking an apple for the horse of a knight. He run like the hounds of hell were chasing him, and Leon let him. Feeding horses just didn’t seem that evil to him. He wasn’t able to do it often, because that would be suspicious, and the adults seemed to be corrupted by it, so he hadn’t really questioned _that_ until the druids saved him. Sir Leon was a loyal man, he took his role and responsibility seriously and had never considered that he might find himself having to choose between his current king, and the future king over something such as this. To commit treason against the king, or the Regent. Usually his job was not to make policy decisions, but to maintain the peace and act accordingly. This time he was required to make his own choice, and he knew it could only be Arthur. Who he could only assume had wrestled in the same way with the magnitude of his past actions and their reality when the veil was ripped away.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one to have had some eye opening and traumatic experiencing. The air seemed to be sucked from the room and Leon broke, sobbing as the full horror of what he’d been an active part of sank in. He wanted to scream, punch something, but if he did someone would hear, come, and he’d have to explain. Memories replayed, spinning around him in a dizzying terrible show, over, and over, with different faces, pleas, and screams.

Then there was a chill, and he heard a soft voice, different to the ones in his mind, but unfamiliar. No woman would come alone at night to his room, and he could have sworn he locked the door precisely _because_ he didn’t wish his emotion to be seen.

“Breathe, Sir Leon. Breathe.” It didn’t make sense, but the woman was speaking calmly, and he knew she was right. He faltered when his vision cleared again and he could see no one. “Who’s there?”

No answer came, and Leon reached for the knife by his pillow, just as the air rippled and a young woman stepped towards him. “You’re a witch!” He gasped, “No, I’m sorry, I am, I didn’t know.”

“Hush, you fool.” She smiled, “I’m not a _witch_ , I’m _dead_. It’s ok, I didn’t mean to scare you. Merlin says I’m not allowed to scare his friends and you’re his friend, aren’t you?” She looked quizzically at him, as though trying to make up her mind about something. “You did many things wrong Sir Leon. You killed innocent people, and you hurt us, I saw it.”

“Yes. It’s too late now…”  
“NO!”

Leon refocused, startled by the girl’s sharpness, “It is _never_ too late Sir Leon. You are a good man. This pain you caused, you find it distressing, and regret those actions.” He looked at the girl and nodded, “Yes.” He whispered,

“Then change. You are not the same knight who bound me, but those were your brothers in arms by the same king, I am one who burned in the courtyard, as people watched; and I forgive you. I forgive you for your words, and your actions, and the innocent blood that you spilled. I hold no bitterness towards you. Teach the others to be better, and help them to protect _all_ of the people.” She said it as thought that was simple. Easy.

“How can you be dead if I can see you?”

The girl rolled her eyes, people were such hard work, “Ghost. It helps with locked doors.” She gestured to his own, very locked, door.  
“And Merlin gives you orders?” Leon couldn’t quite conceal a twinge of horror.

The woman drew back, shaking her head earnestly, “Nooo, no _orders._ He’s very specific about _not_ giving orders and everyone’s personal autonomy.”

Leon felt even more confused, “But you aren’t to scare us.”

“Well it is _kind of rude_ to scare friends.” She said, as if it should have been obvious.

“You’re a ghost.”

“Huh. Your jokes are funny Sir Leon, but you’re a bit slow, aren’t you.”

He flushed, “I just...haven’t met one before.”

She grimaced, “We don’t talk much to the living. I made an exception because you were so distressed and shut away. Living people without magic are ridiculously hampered by those.”

Leon concentrated on keeping his breathing even and looked carefully, the young woman was clear enough but seemed to be less solid than a moment before. “You’re- you are fading. Is that supposed to happen?”

She looked confused, “I came because you were trapped in a violent memory, you were in pain. You are calm now Sir Leon- at least _calmer._ It takes a lot of effort to make myself visible or audible to someone like you. Next time you remember something, breathe. Or count. The not-crazy one is still awake, you could speak with him.” She held up a hand and he watched it become more transparent, “I must go now… oh, and don’t tell Merlin.” She smiled sweetly and flickered twice, before her image was just gone.

He added that, and the fact that Camelot clearly had lingering spirits, to the bottom of his list of things to be deeply unsettled by, and instead of fighting everything tried to pace himself for the next mental assault.

Arthur had given him the choice of serving him on the understanding that magic users who had committed no crime with it, such as thieving and assault, would go unnoticed on Leon’s watch; _or_ he could continue to obey the creed and command of Uther, and lose Arthur’s trust and any place beside them on the king’s death.

Leon hadn’t asked exactly what had tipped the balance in Arthur’s mind. Some men would push- _could_ push the heir apparent. Merlin always had done, right from his ill advised intervention on behalf of his predecessor.

Leon was not one of them. He was a good knight and a solid warrior. He respected and trusted his Prince; his commander, but he did not _question_ , and appreciated the value of a hierarchy. If every knight was given his head they’d never be able to plan a battle or assume numbers.

Arthur was clearly eaten up by this, and not telling him everything, but that was his right as Regent. He was a better leader than Uther, but he had led men in the ‘war against magic’ for a long time, and giving the order- well, it left the ultimate burden of each life taken on your own conscience. The man behind the executioner. Leon, brave as he was, found himself afraid to discover exactly what had caused such a change in the prince.

His first thought had been enchantment, but he had _seen_ Arthur enchanted, controlled, and he hadn’t been like _this_ , then the younger man had outright stated that he _was not_ under any influence, no matter how badly he might wish that it was so, rather than the far weightier truth.

His expression had been more grim than Leon had ever seen it on the battlefield.

That, more than anything, had convinced Leon that Arthur was serious.

He understood why the prince had taken _him_ aside specifically of the all the round table knights; none of _them_ had served under Uther. None of them had raided druid camps or been indoctrinated, and Prince Arthur understood what that was like, having lived the same thing. His reaction was not something he particularly wanted witnesses to.

It was a scary thought, to continue with the knights under orders of the king with the knowledge of how _wrong_ they were. Arthur hadn’t given him a replacement set tonight, likely thinking he wouldn’t remember them in his current state of mind. That was fair. All he had to go on right now was not to bring in any children and to ignore _subtle_ uses.

Leon didn’t know how exactly magic could be _subtle._ It seemed something of a contradiction in terms. So many of the sorcerers seemed to be about production and flashy stunts, if they weren’t yelling, equally unsubtly. If Prince Arthur was giving the order though, he must have a reason, or so Leon assumed.

Whatever had changed, it had to have been something even more significant to the Prince than being saved with a magical item in a druid camp, because Leon had certainly stopped pursuing _them_ after, but he still hadn’t been fully convinced magic did not corrupt people, that seemed perfectly plausible, the Lady Morgana for example…. And yet Arthur had mentioned that had not been the full cause, or even the _primary cause_ of the witch’s defection, though nothing excused her treason and murder of innocents. Leon had tentatively questioned that and been informed in an emotionless tone that they were both also guilty of murdering innocents and calling it ‘right’. All for having the same ability as Morgana, and the king forced her to celebrate the burnings. Leon hadn’t asked again; they were much more alike than he’d ever realised, these two sides of magic and non magical. It was an uncomfortable thought. Seeing them as so _different_ had somehow blurred the line, because they were not like _him_ , not like _his family._

Arthur had warned him that in light of new information they would have to make changes in future, and he was working on a way to do so peacefully, consulting with certain experts, but not willing to reveal who or where from. Leon puzzled over that as he couldn’t think of any recent foreign dignitaries who might be knowledgeable. Somehow the realisation that he _couldn’t see_ and identify such people and they may have been in Camelot all along, watching and learning, was worse, and he felt another wave of nausea. Maybe he even knew someone, or had spoken to one. After all, he hadn’t identified the witch until it was too late. No one would choose that and not take over though. No. He mentally scolded, no, Arthur had said that like normal people there were some who sought power, and others who just wanted to be left alone to live in peace. Perhaps there could be one who didn’t want power, then it might make sense to be subtle? If magic could be unnoticeable that was not reassuring. Leon had believed that it was hard to miss, but Arthur appeared certain that was wrong.

He needed to think, _really think_ if he was to survive this- whatever _this_ was.

Lancelot or Percival might be useful, but he was hardly at liberty to discuss anything significant with them, even if the Prince did seem to be trying to spend some time with each alone, or alone _with Merlin_ . That wasn’t unusual though. Not mentioning the ghost-lady to the servant was going to be tricky though, that was just _weird._ Did Arthur know? Wondered the knight, talking to ghosts seemed like the sort of thing servants would be in the stocks for, even those that made friends with everyone, human, horse, or spirit.

Answers were slow to come that night, and sleep slower.

In the prince’s chambers a draft of early new laws lay on the desk, the ink drying as Arthur finally closed tired eyes. One step at a time. Taking these first ones would be hardest for him personally, despite being far milder than his intended end. It was a watershed; the moment he began to truly change things for those with magic in Camelot, and lay the foundation for his own rule. Even if his father was still king. He would not be intimidated anymore into doing something he did not believe in. He grinned to himself imagining Merlin’s reaction when he saw them, the idiot would of course have to look them over, but Arthur was confident there was nothing he could object to. For the first time in weeks he fell asleep peacefully.


	40. Chapter 40

Merlin woke slowly. He was warm, hadn’t woken up once during the night  panicking, and a solid arm was looped loosely around his waist. His muscles felt less painful and stiff than they had the previous morning, and moving was _slightly_ less agonising than it had been last night when he stretched. Leaving the bed, which had previously felt oversized and awkward, and now just seemed comfortable, was singularly unappealing. He wondered idly if pausing time for an extra twenty minutes would be an abuse of his power. Probably. Certainly Gaius was say so… but oh it was _tempting!_ No one else would _know._ Except maybe Morgana.

He wasn’t sure if she could tell when time staggered, it happened so rarely without his intervention, and Gaius never commented.

Taliesin was Merlin’s suspect for other disturbances; certainly his understanding of death’s _permanence_ had recently been revised, but Taliesin had a different feel to Camelot’s ghosts.

There wasn’t exactly anyone else he could ask about whether they noticed. Kilgarrah seemed to be generally _against_ tampering with the flow of time, despite- or perhaps because of- all his prophetic leanings.

No, he’d probably better not misuse it, apparently that _wasn’t_ a minor trick, as he had thought until recently.

He glanced towards the window, and judged that he could probably remain cosy and secure for five more minutes before it was light enough that servants _had_ to get up. It was rare for him to wake with company, and he was rather enjoying it. The floor slabs would be _freezing_ \- he really needed to do something about that; there were records mentioning some form of heating from old Rome, but he had no idea how they’d done so without magic. Nor did he have the time or motivation to find an engineering based solution when magic was so easy. Gaius had taught him so well not to choose the easy way, but this seemed to be a waste of everyone’s time to take the difficult approach to, unlike health issues. Gwaine positively _radiated_ heat, he was worth keeping in your bed for that attribute alone, and he found it was rather nice to have some variety in sleeping positions with a bed partner. Servants didn’t get the big quilts and down coverings that nobles did, so it was quite common to share your bed with anyone who wasn’t an actual threat. If it was cold enough whilst the castle was on high alert for anything magical in one of the rare times that didn’t mean _Merlin_ was dealing with the threat that included him.

    Colder weather often coincided with sorcerers getting bored, or festivals though. He particularly disliked Samhain. It was chilling, the way those in Camelot seemed to ignore the blatantly obvious. A few folk would get twitchy, but it was difficult to behave as expected in the Crown prince’s household during festivals of the Old Religion. The one time that Uther and his cohorts were most likely to notice anomalous behaviour in their staff.

It was difficult to understand how unaffected those without magic of sensitivity to it remained. Not that the other holy days were any easier to conceal. Merlin had been relieved that this year they were far away from Camelot for Ostara; it had been stronger this year than last, and he could barely contain his magic, or joy. In the city it might have been noticed, but Arthur’s ignorance blinded him and the prat just decided Merlin was being hysterical and girly. Gwaine hadn’t particularly minded the flower crown but Arthur had burned his and glared at Merlin for the rest of the day. Not that the warlock had noticed then.

Oddly enough Gwaine had claimed he must have had the wrong flask and drank his own _very strong ale_ , despite never taking any on patrol, covering for Merlin in a way that now seemed very suspicious indeed. Lancelot had said something about lack of sleep having strange effects. Percival had chuckled and worn the flowers as though it was perfectly normal for a brave knight to be bedecked in the local flora.

Perhaps it _had_ seemed so. Certainly his wife’s family would have celebrated, followed the old religion.

Druids were _cautious_ when it came to disregarding traditions and ritual, let alone actual festivals that mattered. From his own experience with challenging the demands Destiny made and breaking the Rules, Merlin didn’t blame them. Normal druids didn’t come back from the first blast of a sidhe staff or a duel with a priestess. Caution was just sensible.

Unfortunately for Merlin, he had never _been_ very sensible to start with, though that generally worked in favour of everyone else in Camelot. Nor did he have much experience of traditions or rituals pertaining to the Old Religion, though he had some vague and hazy memories of his mother taking him on some longer _gathering_ expeditions at such times of the year, or visiting his grandmother at Samhain to ensure her wellbeing. It might have made sense if he’d _had_ any grandmother, but they never did visit such a woman, who presumably must have perished in the Purge or been driven to exile.

If it was any of the other knights sharing, voluntarily or not, Merlin would have slipped out quickly, they weren’t the casually cuddly type, but Gwaine was openly a very tactile person, he willingly offered hugs while awake. Merlin doubted he’d object to his enjoying a few minutes extra of the strange sense of security that came with someone who cared wrapped around you, even if the man himself wasn’t getting much fun from it.  
Gwaine concentrated everything on maintaining his sleeping breathing pattern. He'd had plenty of practice at feigning sleep.

Merlin rarely woke smoothly, not unless he’d had a nightmare and been rigid beforehand. That wasn’t the case this time, but he couldn’t quite suppress a smile when the man relaxed back into his arms. He knew it wouldn’t last long, but the unconscious demonstration of trust  meant more to Gwaine than Merlin knew. They’d been friends long enough, camped out frequently enough for Gwaine to be familiar with Merlin’s habit of hitting the ground running. For all people teased him about liking to sleep and being hard to wake, that had long since changed, if it had ever been a frequent issue to begin with. Merlin did not wake calm often, and never _snuggled_ back down this way. That had to be a good sign.

Merlin felt the way his friend smiled against his neck and assumed he must be having a pleasant dream, he _almost_ gave in and closed his eyes, but that was risky. He’d promised to wake Arthur this morning, and tomorrow he might not be able to, depending on when Gaius wanted to leave. The thought of Gaius brought him groaning into an upright position, he had to check on the physician, see if he’d got home last night at all, or if Merlin’s help would be needed at all. He gritted his teeth as his feet hit the freezing floor and the chill shocked his ankles, Gwaine mumbled something at him and Merlin winced, he hadn’t meant to wake his friend.

“Just warm it up idiot. Don’t forget breakfast this time, or Princess’ll be pissed.”

“‘Morning Gwaine, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

The man shrugged, hair all sleep mussed, “Not like it’s the first time. At least _this time_ it’s morning… sort of. I left my stuff back in my room anyway, should head back myself, can’t have you locking me in.”

“Thanks Gwaine. There’s something I have to do before waking the prat.”

“Isn’t there always?” The eyebrow raised towards him was as scruffy looking as the rest of his just-woken appearance.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Aye. Occasionally, on good days, it’s not life and death. I’m hoping today is a good day.”  
“You don’t sound very optimistic.”

“Gwaine, how’s my luck going?” Merlin growled.

Gwaine looked at him carefully, “Well, depends how you look at it. The wee things? Terribly, you couldn’t make it up. On the other hand, Arthur accepts you, there are good changes, and you’re still breathing the free air. That’s bordering on miraculous.”

Merlin stuck his tongue out. “Stop being all _rational._ It’s unsettling. Fine, but I think I’ve used up my luck. Frankly I’m amazed that nothing is on fire or being ripped down.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that by the way. I appreciate the lack of infernos.” Stated Gwaine dryly.

“Funny. Although I should probably add a warning to bed sharing for that. Risk of scorched eyebrows or waking wrapped in vines. Weather dependent.” Merlin shifted slightly awkwardly, indicating to Gwaine that there were reasons for the very specific warnings and causing him to chuckle.

“Vines aren’t really my thing mate, but I’m sure there’s plenty who’d be delighted to oblige there.”  
“You’re sick, you do _know that_ right?” Merlin spluttered a little.

Gwaine grinned, deliberately lascivious and waggled his eyebrows, “I’m _experienced,_ there’s a difference; and if you’ve never used magic in _that_ you’re missing a trick mate.”

His friend looked slightly horrified at the suggestion, “Yeah, ‘cause _that_ wouldn’t get me executed in Camelot.”

Gwaine laughed, “Not if you’re good enough at it. There’s plenty of folk outside the borders who probably should be locked up for the good of hapless, easily seduced travellers.”

Merlin shook his head at his friend, smiling, some battles you couldn’t win; some he didn’t really _want_ to.

“I doubt Geoffrey saved _that_ kind of book from the bonfire, and I wouldn’t ask _him_ even if there _was_ a chance.” Merlin shuddered. Asking the old archivist about those type of instruction manuals didn’t bear thinking about.

Even Gwaine grimaced at that, “Perhaps not.”

After a few seconds of blissful silence the man smirked at his friend evilly, “Looks like you’ll need to experiment yourself. Doesn’t _your_ magic work on instinct anyway? You know if you need any suggestions…” Gwaine shut up as Merlin waved a hand in his direction and silenced his friend, ignoring the rolled eyes.

“Experimental enough for you?” There was a twinkle in Gwaine’s eye that left Merlin feeling slightly off balance and as though he’d been played; pulling on his own shirt and throwing Gwaine’s at him he lifted the silencing charm. “Well it’s a safer option than _actual gags_ , and much more effective, but safe-words are...” Merlin replaced the charm. Breakfast was much simpler without those images being fed into his mind before he left to go to work, especially if he was going to be required to look respectable and non-distracted giving actual medical care to anyone. By the time he stood ready to leave, a fully dressed Gwaine was glaring at him. Merlin only grinned wickedly at him as he removed the spell. “I will punish you for this in training. You know that, right?”

“I know. Worth it though.” He winked and grabbed the keys to his room.

Gwaine laughed, it was _good_ to see Merlin happy, and at ease enough with _someone_ to use his magic for anything non-life threatening, even if it _was_ only on Gwaine- or apparently for obtaining food and water. The knight considered it quite an honour to be one of the few Emrys could relax with, and a greater one to hold Merlin’s still fragile trust.

Merlin had stolen enough sets of keys and trinkets to be cautious about leaving them unguarded and had concealed the set overnight, so that no one would _notice_ them sitting at the side. He looked at his storage chest and cupboard, sighing frustrated, he really did need to find a way to increase his storage capacity. It was tempting to throw on the coat, and for the first time Merlin understood the attraction for Arthur to wander around in chainmail or armour when it wasn’t strictly necessary.

Gwaine followed his gaze when Merlin hesitated, smiling when he understood “Take it with you, you’ll need it for training anyway, and need to practice moving with this, you don’t have long to get used to it before I add the sword-belt, you don’t have an excuse to return to your room during the day, only the physician’s, or Princess’s chambers. Use the thing you did yesterday. It’ll save time. I’d say ‘blame me’ if it upsets the princess, but he’s got nothing against knocking lumps out of me on the field and for some reason shies from doing the same to you.” Merlin opened his mouth to refute that, Arthur was completely happy to knock him around and cause pain. He shut it as he recalled the outcome of _actually training_ with Gwaine, who just smirked at him. “Yeah, I thought so. Come on, I’m gonna get all sorts of questions and ribbing for coming in at this time, and Perce wakes up when I do. Are you going to be ok with Gaius, or are you wanting a stupidity inhibitor this morning?”

Merlin pressed his lips tightly together, shaking his head. “No. He was out late last night, I’m just worried about the kid; and him. Overnight cases take a toll on him these days and a fever means he won’t have slept. You have to watch those until they break. If they break.”

Gwaine gave a low whistle. “Ah, good luck, hope it’s not too serious and the kid’s ok.”

He knew how much Merlin hated the cases where it was children who were sick.

His friend nodded tightly, “Thanks.” He pulled on the coat, wrapping the same spell around it as he did around himself with the neckerchief and left with Gwaine, who had left the remaining oil and salve by the bed.

The warlock was silent as they walked quietly, considering everything, but Gwaine didn’t disturb him. He hadn’t really noticed it before but when he needed a distraction or not to be lost in his own mind, Gwaine usually could be found spouting relentless mindless chatter. When he actually _needed_ to think, that stopped. He used it to wind Arthur up for the enjoyment of annoying the man he served, and to keep them both on the same level as before the man had as many responsibilities. Merlin completely understood that it was fun to provoke and annoy the Prince, he had been doing it for longer than any of the others, and very few were willing to tease and bait the man in a friendly way even now. They really did have one whole divided. Very few had ever taken Merlin seriously and been willing to get close enough to see the depth of the man, seeing only the friendly, engaging idiot- surface, happy just to tease and joke with him. Merlin sighed. It wasn’t the fault of those around them exactly; both Warlock and almost- King had deliberately constructed facades around themselves, walls that allowed in only a select few, and had spent their entire lives doing so, albeit for different reasons. ‘A prince can’t have friends’, and ‘keep the magic secret, never let them see’.

He could see things beginning to come into focus better now than before, himself and Arthur as the nexus as the others began to align and be drawn into.... Into whatever this was.

As their paths were about to split Merlin found himself hauled into a fierce hug with little warning, an unreadable look in Gwaine’s eyes as he drew back. “Go. Go save them, healer.” Gwaine winked and left.

Merlin drew in a sharp breath at his friend’s words. It was subtle, meaningless to any native of the city, but outside the borders a physician was one skilled craft, and a healer another, similar but with the added dimension of magic. Someone who had travelled widely would _know_ the difference.

Clenching his hand into a fist to stop the shaking he swung into the physicians chambers, quiet in case of patients. There was a scrawled note on the table, unlike Gaius usual neat handwriting that eased some of the tension in Merlin’s frame, the child’s fever had broken overnight, just before dawn, but there was an address to go back to visit at rounds, Merlin concluded that Gaius had got back less than an hour ago and fallen into bed. He set a vile concoction to stew for a restorative when the old man woke, an after a moment’s hesitation whispered over it, eyes flashing. Gaius could yell at him later. At least this way he’d have the energy to yell in the first place, and Merlin wasn’t running low right now. Actually, he slept more this week than he’d got into the habit of. Not that that was a _good_ thing, but it was almost odd to have some sort of forced self care at all now.

He checked that Gaius had in fact made it to the bed before collapsing, took the scrap of parchment so that he’d know Merlin had got the message when he woke, and the medication the Uther would need with him knowing that Gwen would be up and need it replenished. The others would be better appreciated later in the morning than pre- waking the prat. He checked that there was enough hangover tonic waiting for the eejits who never seemed to learn about their own capacity. The knights had stopped waking Gaius early to bother him for that after Merlin read them the riot act the last time. Now they waited patiently or suffered in poorly attempted silence until Arthur demanded that his servant fetch them something to make it less irritating for _him._

 So it was that he strode into the Prince’s chambers cheerily, without knocking, and still in pain but less stiff than the previous day. The door swung shut heavily behind him eliciting a groan and muffled curse from the direction of the bed. He slid the tray onto the table and drew the thick drapes to allow the bright early morning sun to shine in. There is was, a pillow flew past his head. “Good morning Arthur, rise and shine!”

Arthur glared at his ungrateful servant.

“No.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, looking challengingly at the prince and grinning catlike at prey, “Oh really? ‘No’ is it?” He raised a hand and snatched the duvet from across the room, dissolving into hysterical giggles at the outraged screech the prince let out before he regained control of himself, pulling a thick robe on. “ _You!_ You will pay for that my friend, oh, mucking the horses is just _the beginning!”_

“Breakfast, Sire?” Merlin offered, plastering an innocent look on his face that Arthur couldn’t believe he had _ever_ fallen for.

“There had better be sausages.” Arthur narrowed his eyes at the evil man; magic may not be evil, but clearly this idiot was.

“The very fattest sausages the cook had _sire_.” Merlin’s innocent look faltered at Arthur’s look.

“Put my quilt back you clotpole, I know standing and looking gormless is one of your default positions, but It’ll get all _clumpy_.” Arthur mock shuddered. You’ll make the other competitors in this year’s ‘worst servant’ competition jealous.”

Merlin relaxed “Yes sire.” He bit back the cheeky retort as he was conscious of pushing Arthur’s awareness of his magic further. Harmless enough, no actual threat, but a reminder, and in some ways a training exercise for not underestimating what was leashed. He wanted to get Arthur used to at least a little magic that _didn’t_ injure before he actually saw battle magic openly from Merlin.

Arthur had seen _plenty_ of offensive and defensive magic, he had seen it cause pain, deaths, but he’d never seen that from _Merlin._

The prince rested his head in his hands, taking a deep breath, wondering if the younger man knew how obvious he was being, and how many times he was going to be ‘tested’, but given his past behaviour, and the occasional wobbles of conviction about magic he supposed Merlin had reason to doubt.

“What’s on the list for today?” He asked, wrapping the sausage in bread and taking a bite to cover any expression as Merlin spread the quilt properly _without_ magic and went to swipe the list from Arthur’s desk, pausing as the distinctive parchment caught his eye after several years of practice. “Arthur?” He lifted it carefully, as if it might disintegrate at the slightest pressure. He felt the weight of Arthur’s gaze on him as he stared down at the page and swallowed hard, “Arthur, what is this?” On any other morning he might have been embarrassed by the way his voice broke over the question. Finally seeming to realise that his servant was frozen Arthur cleared his throat, “It’s the first act. The first step towards a reconciliation. You will of course have to read it over, and Lord Geoffrey before it can be signed into law formally.”

Merlin nodded silently and scanned the page, his outward calm betrayed by the tears that spilled over defiantly.

Arthur smiled softly, he might mock Merlin for _being a girl_ at times, but not now. Not this moment. He wondered if he would be as composed if he saw the same for those he’d been _raised_ to consider ‘his people’.

“Thank you.” The whisper carried clearly in the silent chambers “Thank you Sire. This is… I can’t…”

“It is the first bond being cut Merlin. It is not your freedom. Not yet; but no one will ever again burn for being kin to a witch, or for providing them shelter, no one will be condemned for not reporting you or anyone else for that trait. They will be laid to rest at peace again, according to their customs, provided those customs bring no harm to the inhabitants of Camelot. As it stands I have worded it so that it covers those who could not have known, and family, my father cannot refute that without drawing questions that he will not wish to answer about my sister. His pride will prevent him from challenging this if he is well enough to notice the move.  
In truth it will extend to all. I will no longer condemn people for simple differences they cannot help. Nor will I watch as they cut every personal tie and suffer alone for fear of what will happen to those they love.” He gave Merlin a hard look, “You tried to protect them all, hid Gaius, kept distant from Hunith, didn’t tell Gwen even after her father- and declaring yourself to the council, which was unbelievably stupid even for you. There may be only one Emrys, but there cannot be only one person with magic hiding or running for this reason, we are chasing them into the arms of enemies who would use them against their own as weapons. You may be the one to spark all this, but it’s not _only_ for you Merlin, it’s for all the kids out there who don’t know yet, and the Aunts trying to hide and offer refuge in secret to those fleeing or travelling. For the brothers and sisters. Lifting everything overnight would prompt rebellion, at least with my father still on the throne, despite the fact I can pass these as regent. Relaxing the laws will remind the people that there is not a sharp division, associating with witches does not poison or pose an immediate threat. _Helping them_ will no longer be a crime.”

Merlin sagged against the desk, running fingers through his hair and twisting slightly to ground himself glancing between the parchment and the prince. “Arthur, these are _real._ Are you _sure,_ really certain? The nobles are clotpoles but they aren’t all stupid, some will see this for what it is.” Merlin wanted desperately to believe, but he spoke with grim certainty, Leon knew that loyalties now must be chosen, others would see, trained as they had been to look for such things.

“I wouldn’t have written them if I wasn’t. A boy submits to his father. A king takes counsel, but his decisions are his own. I will not take the crown in blood and violence, as my sister would, but I find that I no longer _fear it_ as once I did. Rather I find myself keen to lay the groundwork for a smoother transition that cannot be forever avoided. Nor- Nor should it be Merlin. Yes I am certain. The persecution must end somewhere; as to endings, there is a second set you need to check, underneath.”

Arthur watched his best friend’s face carefully as he laid down the first piece shakily and lifted the second, seeing the moment he closed his eyes, and replaced the sheet on the desk, then nothing as he was pulled tightly against his friend, awkwardly accepting the hug he’d never expected to _want_ to return.

Arthur cleared his throat before he could speak, "You thought I wouldn’t mark your… That you would not be remembered, missed. I couldn’t leave it that way, no one should expect to be _left_ or abandoned. Never again. Not even if I have to scare the shit out of the council by claiming restless wandering spirits have been seen due to improper burial and cremation processes. Enough of them are cowards to submit on the vague possibility alone. Customs that bring harm to our people shall not be welcomed. Other than that, let people deal with the remains of their kin as they deem proper, though I do not yet know what that is. Geoffrey may have advice from experience to add more specifics to this later, but I have done my best to construct a framework for it.”

Pulling away from his friend, aware that he was not prone to such contact Merlin gripped his shoulder hard, “I have faith in you Arthur, you are my _king,_ you always have been really, but this… these are clear declarations of intent to all who are paying attention. It will give others harbouring doubts, or despairing, _hope._ Going before the council with actual, tangible changes, is a very different thing to standing up with the word of a knight and promises that they cannot see becoming manifest. Gods, sorry, your ah- your shoulder’s bloody wet, didn’t notice I was leaking or I wouldn’t’ve-”

Arthur rolled his eyes at his friend tripping over words that were rarely actually a problem for him. “Shut up _Merlin._ You might be a girl, but for this any decent leader of men would be less composed, it’s been over twenty years, and you’ve lived an entire life trapped. I’m hardly going to tease you for being overwhelmed this once. Next time though… next time.”

Merlin dashed the last evidence from his face and grabbed a flannel to wash his face, he’d get fresh water for the Prince, “Nope. Not happening again unless it’s you actually legalising magic. No promises for that, I’ve no fucking idea what happens then, and frankly I still daren’t think about it too hard. It’s bloody scary.”

Arthur raised his glass and nodded to the parchment, feeling satisfied, “But you agree with these? It’s a risk, but everyone has lost _someone_ from all I can find out, often through a simple association, not actually practising true magic. I think they’ll accept it without more than token objections. I’m proposing and passing the law, so they know where I stand, and it’ll give me an answer on who to subtly pressure. Which men would be most likely to support a reevaluation of our current system. Not that I haven’t got a pretty good idea already. Call it a test of their potential. Those who fight will disappear first when the Court falls to me."

Merlin was shocked to hear the Prince speaking so bluntly of taking over from his father, without any trace of nervousness or desire to hold his approval.

For his part Arthur had found speaking to Leon, who had trained him in some things, been witness to what Arthur was forced now to call atrocities, edifying. It had mirrored his own feelings, but without the tempering influence of having been raised by _Uther._ He had been shown exactly how even a noble born Knight _should_ feel about their actions, unclouded by the weight of teaching of 'end justifies the means'.

Leon was one who followed orders, yet had always shared some measure of horror when victims were young… Or ran.

He knew what some of the older men had done to Druids at Uther's direction. More than the Prince had, and it horrified him. Much like the moment Gwaine had pointed out that _of course_ aredian was a torturer and some of the scales fell away.

Leon, loyal to Camelot all his life and Camelot alone, was what finally allowed Arthur to admit that his father had betrayed them all. As king, he was a monster, shaping his subjects to fit a false idea of perfection. He had become, in his own way, even darker than Morgana had - yet.

If _Leon_ felt that, Arthur could trust there were no outside influences to account for; if Leon _changed_ his actions and speech, the younger knights who looked to and respected him would follow. In that his friend - and Leon _was_ a friend--was a valuable ally. No one would believe that he would act against the interests of Camelot, or it's people after dedicating a lifetime to such service.

Merlin and Gwaine had shown him the _truth,_ Leon had shown him the heart of those he led.

The ones without personal motivation would share his conviction, even as they worked through the trauma. There were so many things that simply weren't spoken of here, even with those who were present together. In hindsight that should have been a sign that something was wrong, but then, Arthur had never known any different.  Merlin was left shaking his head in wonder. Arthur could say what he liked about it not being for Merlin, the King in him probably was doing it because it was _right,_ but Merlin wasn't _actually_ an idiot. The prat had written into law a way to keep his family safe, and given him possibilities that had never been open before. Within days of learning of Freya and Dana it _just coincidentally occurred_ to him, Merlin ruefully shook his head, he didn’t think that even Arthur would believe _that_ level of ‘coincidence’.

He didn't bother trying to hide his pride in the man, or the odd ache in his chest as years of sacrifice finally began to bear visible fruit, and his voice was gravelled when he could finally respond. "Anything you need sire, whatever I can offer. I am yours. According to destiny anyway, and Kilgarrah; and we _will_ raise Albion together. Take them before the council, stand firm for real justice. You make it legal, and Kilgarrah and I will deal with my father according to our custom; I’ll mark the mass graves and desecrated places for your people’s safety. Face your arrogant, power hungry Lords, and I’ll take on the Catha and Druid Council. If I _live_ you are going to owe me _so many_ days off for that."

You couldn’t burn a living dragonlord. Useful failsafe, that. Once their body died, it burned just as well as any ordinary man, Merlin knew without reaching the exact methods yet that to bury someone who belonged to the sky, and the wind, underground was wrong. Every instinct screamed against it, and he would never burn someone he loved on a pyre, he just couldn’t. Dragonfire though… dragonfire was pure, it sanctified, empowered, it was magic and peace, and ferocity. Destruction and healing all at once. It was balance. He’d check with Lachlan, but he _knew_ he was right.

 

“You’ve a lot of unexplained absences to make up _Merlin._ ” Arthur arched a brow and folded his arm, managing to appear surprisingly regal given he was yet to get dressed for the day.

Merlin shrugged nonchalantly, “I’ll have more if I’m inexplicably dead.”

Arthur stifled a groan, “True, but that’s why Gwaine is training you, isn’t it- one of the reasons anyway.”

“I still think you just like seeing me hurt. The weapons are much appreciated though.”

“Didn’t he give you the mail? Oh that little-”

“Ugh, yes he gave me the damn mail, but about that sire, you know I told you the dead man gave me his family things?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, shifty, fidgety Merlin usually meant either imminent danger, or he’d done something stupid.

“ _Merlin?_ What. Did. You. Do.”

“Nothing sire, this time. I just learned some interesting information about the defensive properties of specific types of leather.” He grinned, “Want to see?”

Arthur pressed his lips tightly together, quickly running a translation of Merlin-speak to ‘New and interesting sneaky shields or armour have been gifted me.’

“Yeees, that _does_ sound interesting, and like something we might not want to advertise. What sort of defence?”

Merlin took a steadying breath and his eyes flashed, revealing his other attire to the Prince as his heart skipped a beat, he still had an inborn fear-reaction to showing any type of magic that might be used in a threatening way, but Arthur seemed to be far more interested in the unusual design than in Merlin’s mild deception, giving no hint that he’d noticed the way his servant’s spine straightened slightly as the glamour fell away.

“I’ve never seen those symbols before. Turn around.” It sounded like something a maidservant might say to her Lady, and yet Merlin heard the steel in his king’s tone that brooked no argument. This was no dress fitting, it was more akin to Arthur examining a sword gifted him for flaws and strengths.

“You wouldn’t have, the family were exterminated.”

“Step forward.” Arthur hummed softly as Merlin obeyed, “Good workmanship and material, complicated looking techniques, so why the split?”

Merlin snorted, “Dragons are not horses sire, as they’ll tell you petulantly in a sulk. Cloaks flap and obstruct freedom of movement and sight. The maker expected the wearer to require such freedom to ride with their kin.”

Arthur tilted his head in acknowledgment, “Well considered enough. Your old boots won’t do, I expect you to use better ones, perhaps you could find someone to make some to match.”

“I’ve honestly no idea who made these, and even if I did they probably died in the purge for it, and if they didn’t would be ages with Gaius. Really I would like to find my own house’s symbol and oath first. Balinor’s things may be long lost, but it feels dishonest to imitate another without honouring my own in the long term. The ghost spoke truthfully, it is not magical in itself, but _I am,_ and it is specifically designed for a man like me, well, similar. No one is _like me,_ but this dragonlord- sorcerer combination is as close as you can get I guess. I never got the chance to ask my father exactly, but I _think_ he was a warlock, either way he had a gift in healing using magic. It was him who healed you on that occasion. This thing works _with_ mine, maintains a kind of shield that I can project easily enough by instinct, unpracticed it held back dragonfire, but this holds it almost constantly without any of my conscious effort. At least after I’ve worn it for a while. Gwaine claims I’m leaky, which is unhelpful and unflattering, but this sort of _absorbs_ a little of that shed magic. Honestly, the way he describes it you’d think I _sweat_ fucking magic. In practice though it makes back-stabbing less successful unless I have a _really_ bad day.

Arthur’s mind was racing with possibilities of such protection for various vulnerable groups, but they were discussing things that technically both should be executed for. Honestly he was sure that Merlin was so far off with his exasperated suggestion.

“ _That_ is very, very useful. For the love of god Merlin, _do not lose it!”_

“Pleeease, only you and Gwaine know it even exists.” Merlin scoffed.

“Yeah. Until you show it to Lancelot, or Percival.” Arthur ignored the eye-rolling, drawing on the reserves of patience he kept specifically for dealing with Merlin.

“Fine. I solemnly do swear not to lose my very precious inherited not-quite-armour.”

Arthur sighed in relief that the man was at least _listening_ to him. “Good. The last thing I need is Morgana in that, or learning how to make them for her puppets.”

That sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine, sobering him instantly. “No. No we do not need that.”

“Good. Where are you hiding it?”

Merlin frowned. “Haven’t quite decided yet, it’s useful for training, and Apparently learning to move in armour is a skill.”

Arthur sighed. “Think about it. I’m taking training this morning, then discussing the wording of those laws with Lord Geoffrey, you have work for Gaius to cram in and ride out with Gwaine. You need to work out a cover, it’ll take maybe three more days before people start gossiping. The pair of you have an extra day as Sir Leon is currently very distracted.”

Merlin nodded, reminded of just how much servants gossiped, whilst simultaneously protecting the dangerous secrets of masters they cared for.

“Leave it with me. I’ll think of something.”  
“Make it better than the terrible lies you fed me.” Arthur said dryly.

“You never really probed beyond them or you’d have known about me years ago.” he shrugged, looking far less concerned than Arthur thought he should.

Arthur folded his arms and pursed his lips, “A mistake that I do not intend to make again.  Even if they do tell me about observing the mating habits of badgers to work out when it is safest to collect a  very rare and obscure plant, or being turned into a mole for infiltrating a spy net- oh no, you fucking idiot. I never, ever want to know what the life of a mole is like. Just to be clear. The next idiot though, because you can’t remain _just_ a servant forever, I’m stomping all over accepted diplomacy as it is, and if you were anyone else it might have started an actual war. Thanks for that by the way; not starting one over the lack of days off and refusal to leave the fluffy bunnies alone is much appreciated.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose and looked genuinely repulsed, “Wars rarely achieve much, in the end, no matter how many lives are wasted those people wielding power have to call parlais and find a way to force a cautious peace. Not to mention they are expensive, induce famine for the common folk, and create a lot of work for the scribes, which Camelot lacks, and the druids see as inferior.”

Merlin sighed. “If there was a way to avoid war without submitting to tyranny I would take it without hesitation. I’m still pretty sure destiny made a mistake, I’m not a born warrior. I do appreciate the lack of execution, arresting my friends and guardian, and exile myself. Call it even?”

Arthur chuckled, “Something like that. Since you currently _are_ my manservant, you have duties enough to occupy you after helping me dress.”

"You _could_ say that. It's almost as though people think there is three of me! Which there is not. Splitting oneself or being cursed that way is inadvisable and horribly complicated, as well as difficult to undo. Don't do it." Merlin shuddered.

The Prince stared at his manservant in horror, “When? Actually, don't tell me unless it's necessary for safety, I really _don't_ want to know, and for the love of Camelot never tell Gwaine!"

"Gwaine? Why not… Oh! Oooh. Yeah. No telling Gwaine, ever. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Arthur looked mildly nauseated, “Images I didn’t need this early in the day. Did you manage to speak to Lancelot properly?” he asked.

Merlin grimaced, “I spoke to him. He guessed that you and I had come to some sort of understanding, but yeah, we’ve his support as strongly as yesterday and he’s glad you didn’t disembowel him on the training field. Impatient for certain laws to change but that’s a lack of bearing responsibility for epically fucking things up in the haste to fix an injustice.  I envy the inexperience.”

Arthur cast an eye over his friend as he pulled on a shirt, “You aren’t?”

Merlin looked away, “It’s complicated. Of course I am, but it’s something that will change everything I’ve ever known, so yeah, I’m desperate to have the laws lifted, while also terrified to. How did you feel when you first realised you were going to eventually be king? Multiply that by about ten thousand and you begin to understand how accepting the mantle- the _identity-_ of Emys feels. Except for the training part, because anyone who could have trained me was gone.  In theory Nimue could have, but I’ve a funny feeling she would have been on the other side and trained Morgana instead, which would have been a Very Bad Thing. Morgause was tricky enough to fight blind. Nimue knew at the end who I was, the very end. She said… She said that together we could have ruled the world. It scared me because I knew she wasn’t teasing. It was a serious statement. ‘Course then there was the massive fireball, so if I’d ever been tempted to work with her, that would have quickly banished any curiosity. Attempted murder can do that.”

Arthur paused in shrugging into his red jacket, “Right. Well, that was one of your better choices I guess, but _when_ was that?”

“Final battle with her, I wasn’t supposed to get back up, you’d never have known anyway so it didn’t matter.” Arthur swallowed, “The fireball. If she wasn’t expecting you to get ‘back up’ she hit you. Show me.” 

Merlin shivered. “It’s not pretty Arthur, but it’s just a scar, alright? Why does it matter?” There was a tightly leashed frustration in his voice, what right did they have, did _anyone_ have to demand proof of his pain. Arthur looked at him soberly, “ _You_ matter, alright? I need to see what I missed before, and yes, I need to see the consequences of my own poor understanding. You have borne the consequences that ought to have been mine on what seems to be many occasions. I am not passing judgement Merlin, or demanding to see _everything,_ but you offered me everything. This is my demand. A reminder. You are- you are my _friend_ Merlin, and I failed to see you suffering for far too long. Please. Trust me with this. You know my own scars after all.” He attempted a half smile,

“Yours don’t look like… Arthur, some wounds don’t heal like others or are dramatic. I’m not about to lift the concealment and add drama.” He slowly untied and removed the neckerchief. “I did. If this is what my king demands-”

“No Merlin, not _demands. Asks,_ humbly actually, and you know I hate doing humility.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and glared. “Fine. _Asks._ I just haven’t shown anyone but Gaius.”

He pulled the tunic over his head and his eyes flashed, lifting every trace of magic. Arthur was hard put not to recoil and remain still, as it was his hiss of indrawn breath rather gave him away.

Merlin snorted “See, this is _exactly_ why I cover them when I’m away from Camelot, not just in the city.”

Arthur’s hand clenched into a fist at his side to not reach out, respecting his friend’s right not to be treated a curiosity; so of course Merlin noticed.

“Really? Now you’re going to draw a line? It’s not a fresh injury Arthur, no matter what it _looks_ like. Touch isn’t going to hurt me, and you’re just going to stew and look worriedly at me all day otherwise until I get asked odd questions by the knights and Leon decides we’ve had a ‘tiff’.”He softened his voice a little, he did understand, he’d been on the other side of his best friend being injured often enough. “Go ahead. Just don’t start looking for others, you’re not ready for everything, and neither am I.” He would’ve folded his arms if it had been any other scar. It irritated him that the thing had remained vivid even years later, though he suspected that if he hadn’t died then it would have healed better. It was like fate decided to leave him with permanent reminders of steepest learning curves.

Arthur swallowed and did as he was told, gently tracing the edges, as though checking that Merlin wasn’t exaggerating it’s healing, though he had been forced to repeatedly re-evaluate his servant’s pain threshold and indicators. _This_ was something he should have noticed even on ‘just a servant’. “Stop being such a girl Arthur.”

It should have killed him, Arthur knew that much.

“You came back to work with _that_ unhealed?” He swallowed, thinking with horror of the infection risk of a fresh burn like that in stables.

His servant huffed testily, “Gaius is a lying bastard, but he’s a damn good physician. There’s no way he would have let me neglect it, and magic helped. Honestly, having him treat it hurt more than the original injury, but he even managed to salvage some level of feeling in the skin. Not a _lot_ , but more than most could have. Don’t go getting all guilty and soft on me you prat, I’ll start getting ideas about being important.” The sadness remained in Arthur’s eyes as his hand drifted gently over the old wound and withdrew his hand, swallowing hard and clearing a gruffness from his throat, “Well we definitely can’t have that, self important manservants are a terrible reflection on any Prince of the realm.” He appeared calm and his usual self as he turned back to Merlin waving a hand towards his tunic. “Come on, get dressed, before you make me late. Again.”

Merlin didn’t need to be told twice. “Never say that in front of the knights, half of them already have gold riding on when you ‘claim’ me, or I throw a jealous tantrum and slap whichever poor woman you make your queen.”

Arthur spluttered, having apparently missed this low level betting among his men.

“Which half!?” He half- yelled.

“Merlin swung on his leather coat, “Oh yeah, sure, like I’m going to tell you _that_ so you can go and beat them around the field for no good reason.” He snorted, “I _like_ the knights, and frankly I’m going to need them on my side when you _do_ decide to tip everything on its head. Besides, it’s not like it matters or makes a difference. I’m not your type for bed warming, and I’m _definitely_ not the type to compromise someone’s will with a spell. If it makes you feel any better they also have bets on who the cook is trysting with and what Leon’s ‘secret’ from the truth spell is.” He intentionally skipped the ones about Gwen.

“Strangely enough that’s not very comforting and makes me more concerned that they may have a gambling problem.”

The warlock shrugged, “It’s not always for coin and they’ll always have that mentality, they gamble their lives in every battle. At least in this no one gets hurt. Plus, whatever they try they are _never_ going to see what’s really coming, and there’s nothing that Gwaine can do to profit from the fact he does, which must be a torture in itself, so there’s some comfort to be had from that.”

Arthur grumbled, “They’re idiots.”

Kneeling to lace his the Prince’s boots up Merlin chuckled, “They’re knights, they _have_ to be idiots. I doubt all the knocks on the head help either.”

“Merlin? Don’t slap the queen of Camelot unless Morgana somehow manages to temporarily get her talons into the throne. Then please make it count. No slapping the others.”

He looked up at the prince from the slightly awkward position; Arthur was still unused to having someone he knew was his equal kneel in front of him, and really it amused Merlin more than it should have. “Aww, but you have such terrible taste in women sire. Sophia tried to drown you, and although slapping her would have been terribly ineffective I still think it would have been satisfying.”

Arthur stepped away as Merlin got to his feet, “What if I didn’t? Or had an advisor to help me screen them?” The warlock watched him closely, acutely aware of Arthur’s own attention,

“Well, I suppose that would depend on who was advising, I mean, if Gwaine was advising I’d suggest you ignore him, if Uther advised I’d expect the girl to attempt to kill you or him, or both. Why?” Merlin raised a brow at his friend, sure of his conclusions but cautious of overstepping the mark with things still fragile between them in some places.

“The king has demonstrated even worse character judgement than I did, and may actually have a vested interest in my continued misery, Gwaine would likely decide I needed to get laid, and might be recognised by various eligible ladies. Actually I was thinking more of someone who knows my habits and annoyances better than anyone else, might recognise someone who would be a useful support for my weaknesses. Of course, the future queen would have to be able to get on with my other half, so I guess have _him_ do the litmus test would make the most sense. I can’t risk having a court tear themselves apart over split loyalties to which of the king’s wives to align with. It happened to another king not long ago. If I start pushing for change, the Lords will push back for me to ‘settle down’ and stop trying to ‘provoke’ a war. I can’t exactly court someone you hate, and really it would save time. I suspect several of the council are already grooming favourites.”

Merlin sighed. “They are. Really, they’re worse than the maids, it’s not healthy to be so invested in someone’s love life. Which I keep telling the ghosts but do they listen? _No_ , it’s just Merlin.”

Arthur looked down at the parchments that could tip a precariously held balance; “Then you see my dilemma.”

Merlin sighed, “I would be honoured to help screen out the dangerous ones but Arthur, you _can’t_ marry someone just to appease a bunch of fusty old men who you want to replace anyway, and you _can’t_ marry someone on the basis of who _I_ like. Seriously. My _type_ , if I have one, is dark haired sorceresses who could kill me, and pain in the ass swordsmen who _think_ they could beat me. So yeah, if you are planning to rule with someone for life, it has to be someone you choose for yourself. I thought you’d found one actually.”

The prince looked puzzled at first, then Merlin could see the man’s barely restrained amusement rising. “Rule _with?..._ No. You misunderstand me. I intend to _rule_ with _you._ Otherwise what’s the point in us being all bound up in prophecy? You rule the magic folk and orders, I rule the non magic, and we weave it all back together. I need a Queen _consort_ for the court, an advisor, and heir. Technically you already hold equal rank to a king, so you see, it does actually matter what you think of her, because otherwise dinner is going to be horribly awkward, and I’ve no interest in fostering bitch fights in my own household thanks. If either of you can’t tolerate the other I’d have to spend so much time hunting and questing there’d be no end of rumours, and most likely a coup.”

Merlin scanned his friend’s face for a sign that he was exaggerating, or joking, oh please let him not be serious, and found no such relief.

“I can’t, Arthur. I just can’t. If you find someone you want, someone you truly like, and respect, someone who you can imagine a life with _then_ come and ask me, and I will tell you with absolute honesty and check that there is nothing terrible lurking underneath, like Elena’s changeling situation.”

“Elena’s- you know what, another time. That’s a shame, I liked Elena.” Arthur looked almost disappointed.

Merlin leaned back against the wall answering, “Yeah, I did too. Once the sidhe was sorted anyway, gods I hate dealing with the sidhe. She was a nice girl underneath it all. Oh, her grotesque guardian had a thing for Gaius, we had to use it as part of the plan. I’m not sure he’s quite recovered yet.”

    Arthur couldn’t return Merlin’s casual smile, “Will I ever learn everything that has been hidden?”

The warlock sighed, dropping his own. He was good at compartmentalising, getting through the day with multiple levels playing in his mind. “Honestly? Probably not. Every time I think I’ve run out of shock there is something waiting to disprove the theory. I think destiny gets bored sometimes so just plays with humans for her own amusement. I’ll do my best not to hide horrible or significant things from you though. At least from now. Except for prophecies. Trust me, you do _not_ want those on your mind, it is not a kindness. What happened to Morgana is not uncommon for Seers. There’s a reason that it was the dragonlords who kept them in line, or gave mercy, instead of the usual lords and little kings. Not that _you’re_ a little king of course-”

“Shut up Merlin! I get it, I’m _not_ an idiot.”

“Never said you were, sire.”

Arthur looked over in disbelief and Merlin considered his words, “Oh, I mean today. I haven’t called you an idiot today! Have I? Ooh, when you mentioned the knights, right, what I _meant was-”_

“Merlin? Seriously, Shut up.” The not-yet-king glared at him and Merlin blushed, “Yes sire, shutting up.” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like today was going to be a _long_ day.

“See to the tasks Gaius has assigned you, while I am training and collect my armour after for cleaning and polishing. I have dinner with my father tonight, and I suspect it is likely to be with the volatile version who is always deeply disappointed in me.”

Merlin’s expression darkened. “He choked Morgana, and allowed her to be tortured. I don’t particularly trust him with you.”

Arthur groaned, the man was ridiculously over protective, “Merlin, I have been eating with the man almost daily, when we are both in Camelot, since you arrived here, and while he has had plenty of harsh words, and yes, has chained me in the dungeon, he has yet to actually threaten my life. I think it’ll be ok.”

“Until now you haven’t openly rebelled against him.”

“I am not now.”

‘Yes you are’, thought Merlin to himself, wisely keeping his mouth shut for once.

The prince looked grimly at his friend, “I cannot gain his respect by following his teachings either and you know it. At least this way I can regain my integrity. Besides which, you are going to be there tonight, burning Uther-tree or not, to make sure nothing serious does go wrong, and no-one dangerous overhears anything should it come to that. Especially disagreements over critical laws.”

Merlin nodded seriously. “Yes sire, I’ll be there.”

Arthur finally smiled properly. “I know. You always are when I need you. Now hand me my sword and try to stop looking like a girl given sweetmeats, it’s embarrassing.”

Ignoring the jibe Merlin handed over the sword and wondered what it would be like to wander around with a weapon in plain sight, one that people could see and gauge instead of an invisible capacity. His hands could be considered as dangerous, but no one ever saw the peril that lay next to them, he shivered, his time was running out fast, soon they would, and he couldn’t help but speculate over reactions. Who would draw away, look fearful, he’d seen that before. Who might be repulsed, or hide their children. Who would have the same sick fascination that you saw in the faces of a crowd at an execution. Who might just be willing to look past it and see _him;_ not care or fear, or see him differently. It was rare. So far only Will and Gwaine had. Lancelot had known from the start, but it influenced his view of Merlin, and Arthur had changed his in unexpected ways. It seemed that _he_ had been changing for a lot longer than Merlin had realised.

Merlin shoved memories of being A Monster to the back of his mind and gathered what they needed, feeling jubilance and a familiar crushing pressure competing for dominance. Jubilance won out by a conscious decision on his part. Tonight he was going to find Kilgarrah. After an evening with Uther he was going to fucking need it anyway, and Gwaine could come along or not. He’d ask George to have a bath waiting for Arthur after dinner, gods knew _he’d_ need to relax after a full dose of Uther’s own special brand of parenting.

Really the prospect of an evening with the current king with the likelihood of magic related rants was enough to make dealing with a fast spreading infection seem like a pretty attractive option.

“Lord Geoffrey before the idiots?” Asked Merlin lightly.

Arthur smirked. “Lord Geoffrey. I suspect he knows this is coming.”

“Aaand our excuse if someone thinks it’s weird of us to visit early?” Merlin knew how servants _talked_ when unusual things began to happen _._

“You’re the physician’s apprentice. He needs drugging- ah, medicine. I’m the Crown Prince. I don’t need a reason.”

Merlin snorted, “Fair point. Let’s go wake the dragon then.”

They set off in step, locking the chambers as they went, the usual rules of remaining one step behind had never worked particularly well for them anyway, and being who they were it was simpler just to make their own.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one I wasn't sure about posting, there's an alternative. Comments are appreciated.

\--------------------

Merlin no longer cared what other staff thought of his neglect of proprieties. After calling the prince a prat the first time they met- and an ass the second- it seemed to be a bit late for those, and Merlin spent enough of his life pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t about to add yet another layer of faking and unearned submission to it. He had always hated bowing to bullies, every time they were supposed to somehow _accept it_ as some inevitable part of life _._  A part of his spirit soared at seeing one of _them_ accept the injustice for what it was; wrong.

Not only was Arthur accepting and admitting that the acts were fundamentally unjust abuses of power, he was _changing them._ Merlin had said so many times, to so many different people ‘He’s not his father’ it had become a mantra, and he had questioned it himself, too many times for comfort. Too many times he’d felt the beginning of hope that it might _finally_ be time only to have it snuffed out painfully. Morgana was definitely worse, he was certain of that, had been for a long time, but no one could be optimistic _all_ the time.

Lord Geoffrey had watched the child Arthur had been succumb to his father’s poison, heard the lies for longer than Merlin had drawn breath, and the warlock was rather looking forward to seeing the man’s reaction to this. Usually in control of his reactions, Merlin was helpless to hide the wide grin that spread across his face and didn’t bother trying, really it was amazing he wasn’t actually skipping- or floating, maybe floating was less girly if it ended in brutality? He didn’t care. Today was the last day that he’d be a walking death sentence to everyone he loved, or defended, or traded with. Sure, he’d still have an axe hanging above his own neck for having magic, but he could have family or friends without feeling like hemlock in their tea.

None of them would be poison or like some plague where contact brought death.

The child born with magic wouldn’t necessarily be abandoned or exposed, the sibling wouldn’t have to run with the clothes on their back so no links could be made. When Gaius took him out the next morning it wouldn’t be treason to mark the place with a cairn, or place wards, or leave a marked prayer tree.

 _He_ was still a dead man walking, the stray thought making him choke back a giggle of irony, but if he _could_ die the way Arthur thought, he’d be permitted a resting place or at least funeral. Under the earth sounded like a punishment, and he’s spent enough time in dungeons to know how unpleasant being below ground was. Others didn’t though, he knew most regarded burial as akin to returning to the womb, often still binding a body, whatever their own beliefs about the _right_ way. His own village burned the dead, a consequence of higher numbers of deaths during winters when the ground was frozen, reinforced by being on a border. Uther wasn’t the only king to identify the effect on a population of desecrating their sacred places. Many before him had done it, and Merlin was certain many would use the trick after.  

Not today though. Today he wasn’t losing anyone, he wasn’t going to let anyone die _today_ no matter _what_ he had to do. Please destiny, let me have _this one, h_ e thought.

The few people to spot them were not nobles, and gave Prince Arthur the customary berth required, showing respect and trying to ignore the grin on his manservant. If Merlin was grinning so broadly it was best to be on one’s guard, and nowhere near the pair of them.

There was no one visible in the corridor when Arthur knocked loudly at Lord Geoffrey’s chambers, though Merlin saw a wisp of hair that gave away _one_ companion, and as he gestured subtly to her he threw Eileen a quick wink.  As the old man’s servant answered the door his colour drained away with ill disguised shock, and looking between Merlin’s delight and Arthur’s serious mein he directed a venomous glare at the former. Noticing, Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “You are dismissed.”  He wasted no graces on those who he deemed discourteous or unworthy.

“Now.” Was added with a stronger hint of warning and the man capitulated. Few people were stupid enough the take on the Crown Prince in the morning. The general consensus was that if they were then the results were of their own making… and that they had better hope Merlin had been there first.

The door was slammed before the servant made it to the end of the corridor. “Lord Geoffrey!”  He called, just as Merlin was about to launch into a short tirade about showing some respect to servants he was interrupted by the rumbling tones of the Court genealogist, “My Lords. Sire, you were taught better than that, and I know it. Would you care to share what has you both so riled up this morning as to storm an old man’s private rooms and disturb his rest?” No signs of actual distress were visible thankfully and his eyes glittered with amusement above otherwise stern features, so Merlin made no apology and as Arthur rarely apologised for anything even if one was owed Geoffrey didn’t expect one.

“Oh I might be able to hazard a guess sire, but guesses are imprecise and easily manipulated, much like humans; data and facts now, those are never inherently corrupt.” He raised a thick eyebrow. “Which may I aid you with today? Please pull that heavy curtain over Merlin, it’s awful draughty with all the cracks here.” Merlin looked over to where the old Lord gestured and no curtain hung, and groaned as his mind caught up but he insulated the room as well as protecting them from being overheard, because dammit he was feeling generous today and he felt like he owed Lord Geoffrey a little bit.

Arthur glanced to the warlock at his side, “Is it done?”

Merlin nodded as he recalled the prince's inability to sense magic being used, “Yes sire” 

“Good.” He smiled pleasantly at the archivist, “As it happens Lord Geoffrey, both. You have experience working with the law, and in and around the greyer areas of those laws. You have known my father’s council members for many years, and you have so far proven a valuable ally.”

“The thing about laws, Arthur, is that there is no such thing as a true _grey area,_ there is what _is_ outlawed, and what isn’t. Oh there are differences in one’s individual interpretation of those, but the law itself is impersonal unless written intentionally to _be_ personal. Now in _those_ cases is when a legislator must be most careful, for the specific scenario on their mind may cloud judgement and colour the composition so that it can one day be used against them when applied to a very different case.”

Merlin frowned, finding himself agreeing.

Arthur however appeared unfazed. “Indeed, as I believe you informed me in great detail  on more than one occasion, even if I didn’t realise the significance at the time. Since I cannot in truth deny my personal conflict in this case, I require your perspective on something I wish to pass. Necessary, but certainly influenced by personal circumstances. I want you to find any loopholes I haven’t left in _on purpose_ , and close them. If I’ve done it properly then it should play just enough to the character weaknesses of influential men to pass without problems. One of the Council will raise objections claiming it’s to cover my own back- and ironically enough my father’s- from being considered guilty of ignoring Morgana, which _he_ ought to be on several levels.”   
Arthur took a calming breath, “I will need your support in convincing them of the current way of dealing with bodies being unacceptable and encouraging fear. One which they will not wish to discuss between themselves.”

Merlin snorted, “Well that’s easy. Just tell the stupid ones that only those with magic in the bloodline can see wandering the wandering spirits and those can be appeased by a sanctifying ritual and proper burial or cremation process, which pyres and a midden aren’t. None will then want to admit to seeing the unquiet dead, they’ll be to self involved to notice the odd behaviour of others fully, and very motivated to pass a law to protect themselves from being related to magic users, knowing it is not _themselves_ with the trait. No one likes being targeted by creepy assed spirits.”

Lord Geoffrey’s eyebrows had climbed progressively higher on his forehead at Merlin's interjection, “Why are you not on the council boy? Arthur, Why is Elyan at the round table and not your diabolical manservant, Emrys?”

Arthur snorted, almost impressed, “Because he’s my diabolical manservant, Lord Geoffrey. Believe me, that is a temporary situation.”

“That might just work my Lord Emrys. Provided there were such co-operative wandering spirits that is.”

Merlin grimaced, “Leave that part to me. Just tell me when and where you need them and they’ll be there. Obviously it has to occur separately, or this won’t work. The ones who _want_ there to be no change or who lack the mental capacity to evaluate things to Camelot’s advantage will likely conclude it is a move against intrusive magic. Anyone who can think outside Uther’s teaching, or with any background of magical learning however vague will understand, those looking for hope will see it. Those with the most virulent hatred- yes Geoffrey, I know which two it is- won’t be able to see subtleties, and will likely be reactive. The only thing that might keep them quiet is self interest, and we risk them provoking those conflicted to refute it. My other alternative seems to be head on, probably in front of my father. Whatever we do it will make him paranoid- well more paranoid than usual.”

Merlin shrugged. “You two know them best.”

Lord Geoffrey hummed, “The older members will recall certain victims of the purge. There’s a possibility of them being recognised.” Arthur groaned at the way Merlin’s eyes lit up.  
“Excellent! Tell me Lord Geoffrey, were there any who sat on the council with Uther _before_ the Purge?” He asked innocently, in the way the old man knew better than to trust from Merlin… or his father.

“Lord Pye, two others. Do I want to know why?”

The warlock looked suspiciously compliant. “Oh nothing, just asking for ghost allocation, I don’t know who has day shift.” Geoffrey decided it was best not to probe the idea of post-death shifts.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Concentrate idiot. We lack _time_. Geoffrey, I need to know if there are any others who you _know_ share your sympathies. I have no objections to organised haunting”, Merlin sniggered in a non-reassuring fashion, “but if there are any who do it would be preferable to simplify things not have them trying to disentangle multiple layers of meaning and misdirection. I do _not_ want to be alienating anyone who already  _does_ support us.”

“You don’t think it wouldn’t be more disorienting to have no idea what’s going on?”

Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face, “Alright, I don’t suppose there are any _nice,_ non-threatening undead available today?”

Merlin twitched glancing sidelong at Lord Geoffrey. This was not good, no one wanted to think their niece had been trapped between worlds for twenty years, “I can see if she’s available. Sarcastic bastard is a guarantee, hel he’d turn up for fun, there’s a couple I’ve managed to avoid who have an unspoken reputation for putting the fear of gods into anyone exposed to them.”

“Keep me updated. If the gentle one is around ask her to speak to and names Geoffrey gives you to tell them change is coming at last. If not, spare them the one you refuse to decorate with ribbons. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that.”

Lord Geoffrey stared at him “Well then, show me what you were so eager to wake me for. Let me see what state your proposition is in.” There was a taut silence as the old archivist read over each of the proposed laws several times, stopping occasionally to examine one closer. Nodding thoughtfully as he clasped his hands on the desk and looked up at his Regent. “These were not done overnight Sire, or on emotion alone. Well considered, as far as I can tell only a couple of intentional loopholes, no obvious accidents for exploitation. Well written but for one thing; you will require an assigned person to decide which customs pose a risk to the people of Camelot and which do not. Unlike you to neglect such a detail since you were sixteen. May I presume you have a solution in mind?”

Arthur glowered at the smirking archivist. “Merlin, when do you see the Druid council again?”

“Full moon you utter ass.”

“And are we expecting to need an official determination of such customs unusual enough before then?” Arthur asked honestly; he really knew nothing of the old ways.  
“Other than my father, and the mass graves? No sire.” Merlin responded sarcastically. _He_ was always expecting the least convenient option at any given time.

“Good.” Arthur grinned, pleased that he could at last unsettle his friend in return.

“You need to have official reasons for being included in the council before it’s completely reshuffled. I can’t very well state ‘because he’s my best friend’ or ‘Magic’s not totally legal but welcome the new court sorcerer’ can I. Congratulations. You’ll have to put up with two different sets of titles for a bit though, which is always annoying.”

“Two sets- _Arthur,_ You haven’t even asked me if I’ll accept one set yet!”

Arthur looked confused, “You already have one set Merlin, but I can’t very well tell them you get a seat because you’re Emrys and leader of the Catha, or High priest, or king of the druids or something. That’ll still be technically illegal for a bit, and I think ‘High priest of the Old Religion’, and ‘Last Dragonlord’ are pretty big giveaways of 'I have Magic', don’t you think?”

Lord Geoffrey snorted, “Prince Arthur does make a good point my lord. Even the slowest might catch the connotations in _those,_ and you walk already with more confidence and pride in your bearing than any proper servant would ever show. You always have. _”_

Merlin glared at the old man who made no indication of noticing. “Ok. It’s a start, but don’t think that we are finished, I will _not_ just be doing as you decide because you say so!”

Arthur smiled, he did understand the feeling really, but it was still entertaining to torture his friend.

“Well, If that’s all gentlemen? I think I had better get dressed, do send my servant back if you catch him on the way, old bones and all, and he might want to check I haven’t had my chambers ransacked.” The words were sharp, but his tone gentle, and more than earned Arthur knew, having done the same to Gaius and Merlin many times before, and others less fortunate.

“Of course Lord Geoffrey, your aid in our endeavours is appreciated.” Arthur nodded formally and left, Merlin hesitated, “Do you need any assistance before I leave sir?”

The old Lord barked a laugh, “Well isn’t that quite the honour! No, thank you. I suspect your master would not take well to my monopolising you, eh?”

Merlin chuckled, he doubted it would actually bother Arthur, but he certainly had plenty to be doing with the time.

He jogged to catch up with a fast moving prince, “You have messages to deliver, Merlin, and little time for it. Go quickly.” and Merlin did. That Arthur could plan battles strategically wasn’t _news_ to Merlin but it was disconcerting to be a part of those strategies that he included in calculations. He had an unexpected surge of sympathy for the Lords he routinely manipulated into being unable to publicly disagree or disobey.

Rounds were mercifully without complications following so many things that kept crowding out his other thoughts.

There was no way he could return to his own chamber for more than a couple of minutes then to attempt to contact any conveniently dead friends, so instead he decided the best option would be to grab his knives, one of the dragonlord books, and try the prince’s chambers; where Lachlan at least seemed to be perfectly happy to obnoxiously appear.

Getting out the book and thinking very, _very_ hard about Kilgarrah as he read seemed to be effective, though Merlin was almost certain that was a good enough reason for Lachlan _not_ to oblige next time. It was like dealing with Will during his less cooperative stage.

“You called, o great one.” Yep. Bored dragonlords were the _worst._ Merlin studiously ignored the voice the Arthur-voice that pointed out _he_ was a bored dragonlord, muttering at it ‘I don’t have time to be bored’.

“How would you like some variety in the council members you get to piss off today?” He began, unable to resist joining in as the ghost threw back his head and laughed.

“It must be Solstice. What did I miss?”  The dragonlord was, to absolutely no surprise, more than happy to be aimed at the most hateful and two faced of the council members and given more or less a blank card as long as he affected and alarmed no one else, as that was actually an important factor for them not to collectively decide it was the work of an evil sorceress.  
“I believe you may actually know some of them. Consider it completely fine to use personal knowledge that will assure them you are authentic, not the echo or someone else wearing a familiar face. They have to believe you are you. They also have to have different enough stories to be unable to easily question each other without detail.”

“Gladly Emrys, with one change. If you want it believable, send this one Eileen.”

Merlin looked up puzzled, “Him? But he’s a putrid, hateful piece of-”  
“Exactly. She turned him down. He brought charges of witchcraft against her. As forgiving as she usually is, give _him_ to _her,_ consider it a favour I’ll owe you _._ If nothing else it might rein him in.”  
Merlin looked as though he could spit fire, which was tempting to try but also potentially lethal so unwise. “Done. Can you locate the others and give them my instructions?”

“Certainly, Lord Emrys.”  
“Oh, and I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave Uther alone today unless it’s the strong silent thing in the council room, in case one of the cruel ones asks him.”

“I’ll make do with this lot. What do you want us to do with Gaius, Merlin?”

Merlin groaned. “You know what, leave Gaius, he doesn’t need any reassurance and knows what I am, who Arthur is, and I don’t fancy the lecture if someone dead-pranks him or decides to throw up old sins. I need to know where his _current_ loyalties lie and I can’t guess it reliably, I want to see what he decides on his own, not with instructions or heavy handed hints. He already knows I’m watching, and canny enough not to need the reminder. If _he_ can’t make the connection between showing me the mass graves tomorrow and Arthur’s changes then his problems are way more severe than I’ve been providing adequately for, and I sincerely hope they are not.”

“As you wish my Lord.” The dragonlord said approvingly and faded away.

The lore was fascinating, but dense, and when he was interrupted by a sharp knock at the chamber doors Merlin had taken a break and was folding sheets in various different ways. Without thinking, he opened the door with magic and Gwaine stepped into the room looking shaken. “Merlin you’re ne- uh...Merlin? What are you doing?”

“Folding. Obviously.”

“Yeeees, I see that, but _why?_ And why in so many different ways?" Gwaine looked at the myriad patterns displayed in some weird exhibition of laundry origami.

“Because of knitting.” replied Merlin distractedly.

“Sure, alright. And why is knitting important mate?”

“My storage chest isn’t big enough. Oh! Ooh! It’s the loops! It’s the _loops and knotting_ that are the key! Oh that is _brilliant_ that is.”

“Sooo, are we done with the sheets now?”

“Sheets? What sheets? Oh, those sheets.” Merlin crossed the room, closed the door and whispered in the old tongue as the laundry pile vanished from the bed. Gwaine snorted, only Merlin would command creatively folded linen to jump into a chaotic bundle next to the prince’s bed, but then, neatly folded might make Arthur think he was sick, so it made a twisted sort of sense. Talking to Merlin was a lot like being drunk some days. Today it seemed, was going to be one of those days, which was unfortunate timing really.

“Good, done. Arthur sent me. You have visitors… in the throne room.”

“I don’t get visitors, no one visits me.” The man replied casually.  
“Yeah, well, now they do, and trust me, it might be a good time to pull out the Kilgarrah face and fancy coat. Seems someone decided to stop by Ealdor on their way past the borders, they say they are your mother’s personal guard. Something you want to tell us?” but Gwaine was talking to and empty space, cursing he took off down the hall, the last thing they needed was Merlin storming all hands blazing into the throne room to face down some already thoroughly chastised warriors and being forced to explain. Instead he arrived in record time to see an extremely relieved warlock being scolded by a tiny woman periodically protesting that no, the guard was absolutely nothing to do with him, and he had no idea why they were there- well he sort of did- but definitely didn’t send them, as Percival and Lancelot turned purple trying not to laugh.

Lancelot had been puzzled at the claim. If Merlin was going to send an escort to Ealdor he’d certainly have known about it, and would most likely have asked Lancelot himself to go, or possibly Gwaine as he appeared to be willing to do most things on little more than a word from Merlin. He’d internally panicked when some obviously elite warriors entered flanking what was apparently Merlin’s _mother_ and more so to see them kneel when he entered the room, far sooner than Gwaine should have been able to return him and looking rather frantic. It was the first time he’d seen any interaction between the others after learning that Merlin’s magic was now known, and his fingers twitched near his sword hilt.

Percival, who had a much better idea of what might be going on than he’d thought, also had enough sense to try not to be noticed by the small woman, gods, peasant women who survived on their own were tougher than old boots and this one had raised a warlock unseen. He planned on living to see tomorrow.

Apparently realising fully where she was and that perhaps explanations might be required Hunith turned to face the Prince, “My apologies Sire, I am not often so uncouth, but the escort was quite unnecessary and refused to let me get on with things unhindered, when Merlin well knows every hour in the fields matters at this time of year.”

“I swear mum, I had no idea.”

Prince Arthur grinned, “Please, you are welcome to command my servant,” Hands settled instantly on sword hilts, - “That is, _Lord Merlin”_ , he rolled his eyes, “whenever you wish, indeed you seem to be the only one who _can_ bring him to heel. With the added bonus of it’s high entertainment value.” Arthur was smirking at his friend.

“Lady Hunith, these are Sirs Percival and Leon, Sir Gwaine is… well he’s somewhere; Merlin, where _did_ you leave him?” Merlin looked cautiously to Hunith, then the rest of the room and swallowed. “Behind me.”

 _“Merlin.”_ Chorused his mother and his king, Arthur’s tone holding a warning.

“Outside your chambers Arthur.”

The corner of Arthur’s lips were twitching, “So should I assume then that you left before he got to the part of the explanation where your mother walked here from Ealdor to tear you a new one for this ‘latest stunt’, arriving as the first known person to have intimidated two full fledged Catha warriors?”  Merlin looked between his mum and the two men ranged casually against three of Camelot’s finest, and Gwaine as he arrived, and broke into peals of laughter.  
“Oh gods, Oh my gods, they tried to take on _mum?_ ” He turned wide eyes on Arthur, who gave up on keeping a straight face and grinned back. Brushing tears from the corners of his eyes Merlin took a deep breath as Gwaine threw him a reassuring wink from the door and took his advice.

The servant’s stance fell away and he dropped the concealment spell from his coat, his friend beamed wider and a hissed intake of breath sounded from Percy’s direction. Merlin couldn’t spare the attention but Arthur subtly checked his first knight and saw Percival’s massive hand was still and relaxed by his side. It was enough to assure Prince Arthur that he wasn’t actually alarmed by the situation; at least not for the obvious reasons.

Hunith’s quiet dignity did nothing to hide her delight, and Arthur himself felt a bloom of pride as he watched Merlin meet the eyes of each of the men with respect but without flinching or trying to make himself _less._ He’d encountered plenty of noblemen like himself who made themselves seem _more_ important and lacked respect for others, even of equal or greater skill. Narcissists and braggarts had always abounded in such society.

Looking between the three men before him Arthur could easily see who held the authority over the other two, and yet it was not so apparent in the way that _he_ treated _them,_ as in the way _they_ acted towards _him._ Their respect was offered freely rather than demanded, a value he had unconsciously internalised, one that had resulted in his gaining a tight knit and loyal inner circle, even a few he called _friends_. How very different things could have been had they never been thrown together!  
He realised with a start that what he was seeing was how others, those outside Camelot and Ealdor, who understood, viewed Merlin. The woman in the woods had been one they stumbled upon, not one to seek them out intentionally. Lord Geoffrey had known Merlin’s father as a young man, and Gwaine was Gwaine, and these men had not been green.  
They understood exactly what they were doing.

Arthur had spent his life evaluating men at arms, measuring them, learning to read each in a look, and the two before him were no new guards who drew the short straw. This was a task that men had argued for, they were the sorcerer counterpart to Lancelot and Gwaine. Trusted not to leak information, sent on non widely known quests, and, he was quite sure, the best of them.

The warriors who had knelt to him though had intentionally sought out Emrys, knowingly offered their lives in his service, whether or not his friend wished to acknowledge that.

Though to be fair, _he_ wouldn’t have wanted to be the one explaining to Merlin why Hunith got second rate protection either, even _before_ he knew the man was the most powerful warlock to ever live. Who apparently was still slightly afraid of his mother.

He’d tease him for that later, but the point remained that her guards didn’t look quite so sure of the wisdom in their life choices when the travellers arrived.

Merlin relaxed the set of his shoulders. Arthur and Gwaine were right, he needed to improve his skill with blades, but he could _feel_ the power of those before him; he could be confident they would feel his. He let it bubble a little inside him, not _doing_ anything, just not locking it down as tightly as usual, and saw them step backwards, missing the expression on Arthur’s face at their reaction. Puzzled Merlin eased back and saw his mother shooting him a look of reproach. “Thank you Sirs for looking after my Mother. It was not my intention to send anyone lest it draw attention to their village, but I cannot deny that her safety is important to me and my concern has been growing of Morgana’s desire for vengeance against all who have wronged her. The men present are safe custodians of an explanation, but this place is not. I hope you didn’t walk from the gates of the city dressed so openly?” Merlin gestured to their attire, the full length loose robes were as subtle as a Camelot red cloak and armour among a sea of druid green hoods.  
He turned back towards the Prince, “Is there a safer place for us to talk Sire?”

Arthur nodded seriously, “You are welcome to use my study, as it is. Father never goes near it, and I suspect you also have a great deal to talk about with your mother.” Arthur couldn’t tell what Merlin was thinking but he knew that in the same circumstances _he_ wouldn’t want witnesses when the immediate relief of her safety wore off. “Your presence at council today will still be necessary as you know, but you may take tomorrow off for your own purposes. Hunith, lovely to see you again, you are welcome to anything that is mine to give as long as you are here. Sir Gwaine.” He called the knight forward. “Please see that accommodations are found for Lady Hunith, Gwen I am sure would be glad to assist.”  
Arthur knew that Hunith would be expecting to stay with her son and his ‘guardian’, but since that arrangement no longer stood, he was unwilling to facilitate the possibility of further deceit of his friend by his family. Or an agreement over how much to continue to withhold. “Aye Sire.” Gwaine nodded to indicate that he understood, “And Gwaine, see that her escort remain, there is a situation currently that I would appreciate her not being left open to, and of course, the king. While he may not bet abroad he is not _safe."  
 _ Gwaine schooled his expression firmly, no, Uther knew Hunith in a past life. They couldn’t risk it, not when they were so close.

“You are sure Sire?” Merlin scanned him carefully, “ _Merlin,_ I hardly need you there every moment of the day,” One of those standing by his servant growled and he sighed, “Send George to attend to unessential tasks. I’ll share the fruit of his unique brand of humour with you later. Go.”

The party walked in silence uncharacteristic of Merlin and his mother, but this was clearly the first she was hearing of any change in his situation, or others knowing of his magic, and Gwaine needed this time to keep his mouth shut, the stakes were too high. In other circumstances the sight of one small peasant woman being escorted through Camelot castle flanked by two Catha, one of the best knights, and the most powerful warlock, for a chat in the prince’s private study would be amusing, but not today. Like this it felt like the calm before a storm.

Gwaine stopped by the door “Well, I have my orders to find Lady Guinivere if either of you would like a tour, but I get the feeling that now is a bad time.” He clapped Merlin on the shoulder, squeezing lightly, “Curtains and soundproofing might be a good idea mate. You’ve got this.”

Dipping an almost imperceptible bow, enough to appease their company he left without delaying.

Merlin spoke quietly to the men who apparently had volunteered their services, ensuring his other couldn’t hear and got similar wide eyed looks and abrupt nods.

He left the two men in a glamour of palace guard garb on the door, casting the silencing spell as the door shut  heavily behind him, asking the goddess for patience.

“It seems like a lot has changed son.” Hunith’s smile faltered as Merlin’s gaze met hers, eyes dark and stormy. “Why?” He demanded harshly, a bitter snort leaving him at the confusion obvious in her expression.

“Why what Merlin?”

“Ha! Yeah. Figures.” He rand hands through his hair, finding himself pacing, the energy needing to go _somewhere_ as the air crackled uncomfortably around them. So many damn questions. Some of it makes sense. I get why you ran, I do, and why you might’ve split up with dad, for direction or otherwise. There is so bloody much though. How long did you think it would last? Was this some short term thing you never bothered to fix? Or a long term plan? And what the hell was that with Gaius, demanding I not be told? Do you know how many times that nearly got me killed, or how many innocent people might not have died if I’d only bloody known? Oh, but it gets even better, doesn’t it. Not only was Dad a dragonlord- which by the way meant that at least two men recognised me- but I got thrown into the middle of a fucking blood feud, along with two others who had no idea either, and left to sort out the mess that was made years before we were even walking. I came home mum, I came home and you _met them._ Tell me you didn’t know who she was. Morgana. Really, tell me, because I can’t believe it. You knew then didn’t you…” Merlin paused and looked up in horror, “Oh. My. Gods. You used the words, you- _how much did you know Mum?_ You let me leave and walk back here with no sign. You said it to me and I just thought it was funny you'd use the exact words so far from where I heard them first. 'two sides of the same coin', we 'need each other'. You didn't though. You'd heard the prophecy. Did you know the others, or was that unexpected." He could hear thunder rumbling distantly, or maybe it was the blood roaring in his ears. It felt like something that usually only woke when he was with Kilgarrah. "I need to know the truth mum. Not about what you think I am ready for, or won't hurt. Believe me, between Gaius, you, being Emrys without training, being poisoned, stabbed, maced, chained, shot with arrows, caught by serkets, blasted with dragon fire and handed to the bloody witch catcher, I'm pretty certain that you can't devise anything on the spot that's worse. Though you can be sure Morgana is trying."

Hunith's throat felt raw and her eyes burned, "I didn't know at first. When Bal left I didn’t even know you existed,and when you were born with magic I thought maybe it was a Dragonlord thing, then never really shared lore. I guess that with it being by bloodline it didn’t seem necessary. Then at the beginning you couldn't understand or control any of it at all, so we couldn't travel to find anyone who could help; as you got older I realised that hiding in plain sight, somewhere that wasn't important enough to draw attention was safer than most other options. You were always so friendly though, and if a traveller had mentioned a name you recognised the risk was too high."

"So you decided to keep us alone. Keep me alone."

"Yes. I did."

He wondered if she’d have thought the same if she’d watched the time one kid convinced him his father was the devil. He’d had nightmares for weeks and never told her what they were about.

"If recognising a simple name was risky why did you use the metaphor?"

"It wasn't conscious. Not some twisted test if that's what you thought. I only realised after I'd seen your recognition what it was I'd been half afraid of for so long. I told you to go that day because I knew that you would regret it if you didn't, and you already loved him."

Merlin’s eyes narrowed and he chuckled,"Huh. It seems village life does change you. Yes I loved him. Not like that though, in spite of the knights best efforts we were never _in_ love." He watched his mum's features closely, "I love him like Dad loved Igraine." Her eyes widened. Good. She knew then what that meant, and that he couldn't be lied to like a fifteen year old with guilt issues. This had real consequences, for real people, real _kingdoms_.

" _Unlike_ him I've grown up in a world where giving second chances mean you die. More importantly, those around you and vulnerable die, something I have learned the hardest way." Neither face was dry anymore, so many wounds torn open, but delaying them would make it no easier on either of them.  Hunith reached up a palm to his cheek brushing off tears of rage and pain, ignoring her own. He looked piercingly at her. "Did you ever regret your decision to keep me?"

Her instant reply was firm and punched the breath from him, "Yes." She hurried on, afraid he might slip from her, "You came home so often bruised and sore, always hiding behind a smile. I knew then that I had been selfish. Sometimes it would be fine for a whole season, and then there were the times I would bind your cracked ribs; see you nearly starve. We'd be so close to a solution, but when people are desperate they always look for an easy cause. Magic then… It was the easiest thing to blame suffering on. I lied when you were growing up. A lot. Every time someone got close I would lie, or draw back. At some point it got easier than the truth. You know exactly how that is my son. So yes. I have sometimes regretted my decisions, but I have _never, ever regretted_ **you.** Don't ever think it." She stared up at him fiercely he wrapped long arms around her and rested his chin on her head. Both quietly lost in their own thoughts.

"How did you find out?" Hunith asked quietly.

"Which part?" asked Merlin.

"Any of it."

He sighed "I can't tell you that. There is a great deal to be done to rebuild between us Mum."

She nodded against his chest, "I know, and I'm sorry."

"What happened with Gaius. He's a good man, but he's made terrible mistakes too. Your Chambers would have been safer."

"No, they wouldn't Mum. I don't share with him anymore. There was a great deal between us, and it remains so, though perhaps with time it may ease. I can't pretend or go back to ignorance. Any more than the Prince Regent can.” Merlin face grew troubled, “Gaius needs help mum. I was doing almost all of the leg work until recently, and he's suffered these past couple of years. Arthur's asked me to find someone else to help, and someone to train properly as a physician, his requirements for the post will be _difficult_ to find in Camelot. As long as you are here I wondered if you would be willing. The knights will be a pain in the ass about you doing actual normal work, and _not_ working would drive you crazy. I can't stay with him - for mutual safety reasons if nothing else - but he is still important to me. Actually a lot like Uther to Arthur. To have someone there to look after him and be company would mean a lot to me. One of your guards would be there at all times, they'll follow you otherwise, and I'm not about to tell them to stop, accident contacts or not. My room is empty though, and it doesn't look like you brought much. Gwen might appreciate the variety in company too. She's been drowning in sweaty men since Morgana’s betrayal, and the only thing they have in common is a love of armour."

Hunith sniffed and giggled."Daughter of a blacksmith." He explained.

"Ah, I see. She probably knows more about it than they do then."

"Many types, certainly. Not the type  am supposed to have, but without a son, it was dangerous for Dad to keep it."

Hunith stepped away from him to give her son an appraising look. "Whoever this belonged to before chose well. It looks good on you, and you in it. I hoped you would never have need of a sword, but it would seem that was a vain hope indeed."  A wistfulness seeped from her words that frustrated Merlin, he had used one as much as his magic when the fought Kanen, but then, so many things had happened then, and Will had been a second son to her, little wonder that detail had been lost.

“I wish I’d had the chance to learn from Balinor, there is so much that could have been different, that those who _did_ know who I am assumed I must have been taught. People died Mum. They died at my hands because no one thought I deserved to know except a bare handful who thought it was _so obvious_  not to leave me blind that it never crossed their mind to think I might not. I won’t let it happen again; to carry that every day is a terrible thing. You were right about Arthur and I. We need each other. The responsibility is one of the reasons.”

They both carried guilt, but keeping _that_ secret might be her deepest regret. “If I could change things I would, but no one can choose well every time.”

Merlin made a non committal noise, neither disagreeing nor absolving her of a wound that ran too deep still. “I won’t try and make you stay, but I would appreciate it. The timing is utterly terrible though, and I have to ask that you try and be unnoticed for a couple of days, to have his motives questioned right now would be profoundly detrimental to Arthur and a peaceful end to decades of bloodshed.”

Hunith nodded slowly, “Yes, you did seem to be in a difficult position earlier, I didn’t mean to make things harder, they just would _not_ let me get on with anything.”  
“Well, fortunately several of the knights and a few patients are aware that Gaius has been in need of a proper assistant for some time, and that I have been unable to help as much since Arthur’s had more duties, so it’s probable that most will just think you’ve come in response to a family emergency or to care for him. Don't go anywhere without checking with Arthur or I first. Please mum, I know you hate being confined, you just need to be patient for a few days first." Visibly disgruntled Hunith bit back a comment, recalling all the times she'd said similar things to Merlin. Except for him it had been for years, and thinking of how he had appeared in the throne room earlier she conceded the point.

"He'd be so proud of you, you know. I'm sorry that he never got to say that to you, but he would have been so proud of the man you are." Long ago they’d discussed it, the most important traits of a person, the values they hoped to teach, before all such dreams were buried and women started praying _not_ to conceive on Beltaine and drinking tansy.

Her son stared down at her seriously, "He did mum. Just the once before he died. I know."

He wanted to tell Hunith that Balinor would have forgiven her. Would have understood her actions better than Merlin did, but the truth was they had never discussed it, and he had no idea how Balinor would have reacted. They didn't know each other. Feeling as though he should offer her _something_ he instead said quietly, "He still loved you."

In some ways that was worse than if he'd remained silent as he could see her heart break, he owed it to them both though, to remind her. It bothered him more than he was willing to admit that his mother had never _looked_ for his father. When he could have been dead, most likely _was_ by Merlin’s child reckoning, it made sense. Now that he knew what his father had been he missed that belief that it was impossible to know. Had his father died, _at any point_ , he would have inherited the powers of the dragonlords and Hunith would definitely have realised. Somehow that changed things.

Merlin still believed she must have had good reason for doing so- or at least what _she_ believed were good reasons, because she must have known that it would be choosing to remain alone, there would have been no hope for a second family for her. He just thought it was and always had been the wrong decision. Balinor was going to die, and he would inevitably have become Kilgarrah’s Lord, and really it was amazing that hadn’t happened sooner.

“It isn’t your House displayed on this.” She said sadly.

“Until recently I didn’t know I had one. Or a family name. No one here will show me my own.” the defensiveness in his tone irked him.

“Would- would you like me to? I can’t guarantee not making a mistake with runes, but the whole is easy enough.”

Shaking his head Merlin stilled her hands reaching for some way to draw it, “No, I’d far rather you didn’t take any risks with such things, even _without_ magic. I’ve waited this long; I can wait a little longer.” Something held him back from telling her about the variety of sources he had come across. Hunith was clever, and skilled at reading between the lines, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted her to know yet, and didn’t really have time to consider it.

A mental tap, like someone knocking gently caught his attention, _“Lord Emrys, there is a woman here who says she was sent, a Lady Gwen. Should we permit her in?”_

How strange it was to be the one being asked for permission.  Merlin crossed to the door, opening it with a warm smile, “Gwen! Thank you, I completely forgot to mention with how busy everyone’s been lately, but that’s actually one of the reasons I needed help in the first place. You know I’m Gaius assistant, and he’s been taking a bit longer to recover than I’d like, but he really needs more time than I can give unless I stopped being the clotpole’s servant. In a rare moment of benevolence our royal prat agreed that I should find someone to take over some of the physician’s duties- actually he demanded more than one but that’s a whole other problem, but, well, in the interim I needed someone who knows Gaius’ systems-”

“-and you were worried about him. I understand. Sometimes it’s easier to trust family to care for each other, and you’d rather not risk his position.”

He shuddered internally when she mentioned familial trust. “Yes. If Arthur was being less of a demanding prat today I’d go and sort things for them myself, but I think I’ve used up today’s grace.” He grimaced, “I swear I told him when I sent the message to Mum, but he’d no recollection at all today. Probably wasn’t paying attention the first time,” he snorted.

“Probably not.” Gwen laughed, not mentioning Hunith’s lack of a rucksack, “Are these the two who arrived with her?”

Merlin blinked, “Aye. There’s been some trouble along the border since so many were lost, and Lot has been driving people off after the crops suffered in the takeover. The idiots following Morgana too often obeyed the slash and burn approach. I asked in the message if Mum knew of anyone with usable medical skills, and the brothers offered their services. Gaius can test them later, but he was out all night at a patient’s in the lower town. It’s not ideal but my old room is clean and ready if you’re willing to help Mum set up. Oh and, I don’t think you need asking but would you mind not mentioning this? It’s not common knowledge that Gaius is getting frail and how badly affected he was. Even if Uther wasn’t the type to remove men for less, if anyone on the council finds out  it could be a disaster, especially while the only one the king allows to treat him is Gaius and we haven’t yet evaluated the degree of skill our only other options except for me, have. One of the old coots has been just waiting for an excuse to get Gaius exiled from court since before I arrived.” Merlin rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, looking as if to check for any eavesdroppers, but it was hardly the first time he’d come to her asking for help or to implement something quietly so it caused fewer problems for Arthur.

After her time in Court on both sides she knew well the damage a rumour, even unsubstantiated, could do, and anyone with a king’s ear had  enemies. “Of course Merlin. I’m sure you won’t object to me sharing tea with Hunith though? It’s been so long since we last spoke.”

Merlin beamed, “Of course not! I was rather hoping you would, the knights would be _loud_ , and Arthur seemed to be planning to work me into the wee small hours.” Merlin heaved a sigh of long suffering and shrugged. “Still, at least he’s not complaining that I invited Mum without informing him first. Yet.” So apparently giving up lies did not apply to Gwen yet.

Gwen giggled, yes she could well imagine the prince deciding that any and all miscommunication was Merlin’s fault.

“Oh, why were you up here instead of down at Gaius’s anyway?”

Merlin frowned, “Gaius was out until morning Gwen, I didn’t want to risk waking him, if he rose and found it was later than he intended he wouldn’t go back to sleep. I wanted to speak to my mother and explain what wasn’t secure to include in the note without disturbing him or risking Gaius overhearing. He is a stubborn man, and his pride sometimes keeps him working when he should stop to treat his own ailments. Medicine is different to other crafts, and there is no stopping at nightfall, even for a man as old as Gaius. I’m not sure he could anymore after so many years of the habit. Arthur was kind enough to offer the use of his study so that we would not inconvenience any of the Lords, Ladies, or knights. Apparently I’m bitchy when I’m worried and he refuses to listen to it for a full day. I am _not_ bitchy.” He frowned.

“You really _are_ Merlin.”

“Am not.”

“You told Sir Percival that I would _steal his soul_ because I needed a measurement.” Gwen squeaked in outrage.

“It would complete your collection.” He smirked.

“See. Bitchy when worried. We’ll be fine.”

Hunith was smiling as she watched them, glad that her son seemed to have found a sister in the young woman, saddened that it came so naturally for him to lie smoothly to her.

“Thanks Gwen. I’ll bring you non-apology flowers when we stop for more than a breath.”

“You’d better!” She called over her shoulder, followed by Hunith and her guards as Merlin locked the door behind him, then paused abruptly, _“Please, please tell me that between you there is some actual medical experience, that was a massive leap from priest and warrior to ‘able to stop someone bleeding out and treat infection before it becomes and amputation.’ Otherwise I have some serious revisions to make.”_

The man who had spoken to him earlier sent amusement through their connection, _“I wish I’d known how little you’ve been told, what good would a warrior be if his first battle wound killed him. All priests can heal, even if they must do so without magic. It is not a skill that comes naturally to all. Do not be alarmed, your physician is not in danger and we shall not tarnish your name. Either of them.”_

 _“Whew. You just saved me a task that I really do_ not _have time for. My thanks. Oh, and Gwen doesn’t_ really _steal souls.”_

 _“Yes.”_ came the agreement, _“She lacks the skill and motivation to do so.”_

 _“She does, though I was rather hoping that wasn’t the only reason.”_ sent Merlin dryly.

_“....”_

_“.....”_

_“This Sir Percival, he can joke about magic?”_ There was a curiosity in his voice that made Merlin wonder whether it was persecution or responsibility that had him questioning that.

_“The one from earlier who dwarfs a tree. No, he can’t officially, because the laws are not yet repealed. He has family connections to The People though, and guessed my magic.”_

_“Did he indeed. Ah, I must go.”_

_“He did. I need you to ensure that my mother and uncle are not left alone together today, until I or Arthur have had a chance to speak to them.”_

_“Understood. In future you may find scrying to be of some use. Go freely Lord Emrys.”_

 

Merlin broke the connection and headed towards the most likely place to find Prince Arthur at this time, almost immediately colliding with Gwaine, who reached out to steady him. “So...distracted then. Princess told me to wait for you, how did it go?”

Merlin ran hands through dark hair that was already sticking up in every direction from the earlier conversation. “Complicated. Very complicated. Not smooth, but better than with Gaius.”

“Yeah, I got that with the thunder, nothing worse fortunately. You know some people use stress balls mate.”

“Some use mass murder.” Scoffed Merlin.

“True, let’s keep that as a back up plan though eh? Only for use if the first ten fail. If you need to get out of here, we’ll get you out, but no going on killing sprees, ok? At least not without written permission from the Princess.”

“Balance Gwaine,” Groaned Merlin, you lot are always so blase about the composition of reality and its continued existence.”

“Reality is overrated and has lion-eagles, blue fairies with gates between worlds, invisibility cloaks, and dragons in it. I don’t trust reality.” Declared the knight.

Merlin considered refuting it and couldn’t, not for anyone non-magical. “Fair point. Reality also has ale, taverns, pretty girls, campfire stories, and handsome men though.”

“You heard the bit where we shouldn’t trust that, right?”

Merlin laughed, “No, no we probably shouldn’t but you know what today also has? Hope.”

Gwaine gripped his right shoulder tightly, “Aye. I could trust in _that_.”


	42. Chapter 42

 

Arthur was waiting for them. “Your mother has either the world’s best timing or it’s very worst. I’m guessing from the sheer panic you tore into my hall in- well, I _assume_ you tore as one minute you weren’t there and the next you were standing beside them, that you had no idea and definitely did not _send_ anyone. What have you done with them for now.”

Merlin groaned, “Ugh, they’re with Gwen. Or rather, Gwen is with _them._ Mum’s going to be set up in my old room. It bloody _wasn’t_ a plan, but Gaius really does need someone, and the men are of an order of warrior priests, so they’ve both learning and experience in healing, it solves a problem while there are more urgent ones.”

Arthur frowned, “One apprentice physician I can pass off easily, two will attract questions about why we need two replacements for a spry old man when you still work with him, I’m glad Hunith has someone to defend her but Merlin… I’ve seen that woman with a broom… does she really _need two?”_

“Need two? Of course she doesn’t. Gods no, she barely needs one. But _we do._ I need someone to help me work out what the buggering fuck is going on in the basement of nightmares who can drag my limp, broken body out of there if I screw it up, and actually knows what they are doing. You need to put some serious surveillance on Morgana’s survivors, who are not recognised knights, and have to be allowed out today because she’ll expect some confirmation of arrival, and otherwise will just send the next ones in… which defeats the point in keeping them alive so far. If you’ve got a better option I’m all ears- oh ha-bloody-ha- but this is the best I’ve got right now. I should get _some_ credit for accidentally summoning actual healers.”

Arthur crossed his arms and looked with amusement at his servant. “Credit which I would absolutely give you Merlin, but for the vital point you included of ‘accidental summoning’. You get credit when you can do it _intentionally_.”

“I’m not convinced." Griped Merlin,  "They probably have a bloody Seer giving them hints.”

The prince rolled his eyes, “Fine. We’ll try it. Ugh, looks like your ghosts are working, Lord Edgar looks greener than a weed.” He paused, eyeing Merlin warily,  
“Be careful Merlin. Don’t take anyone into the vaults you aren’t absolutely certain of, that could be disastrous.” Arthur held his stare until his friend agreed, not that he tended to be reckless about castle security anyway.

“I can even get Kilgarrah to check him beforehand if you like, but I should warn him first someone is coming. ‘Garrah could incinerate first and question later if he thinks I’m being stalked by one of them. He's not tame, but he is fiercely loyal.”  
Arthur's lips curled at the side, "A trait you both share, among others." 

Merlin spotted Leon across the field and gestured towards him, “He isn’t looking much better.” _A_ _nd_ he was giving Merlin strange sidelong looks, but Arthur had already said that Merlin hadn’t been mentioned in their discussion. He was overthinking it, he told himself. Far too much. Leon was a sensible man and a solid knight, and he didn’t seem to be making any move towards threatening behaviour, or fearful, just _odd.  
_ He didn’t think the prince would appreciate his manservant getting paranoid right now, and the was _no way in hell_ he was going to try and explain ‘Leon is looking at me strangely’ or ‘it’s not _what_ he is doing but how he’s doing it’. He’d voluntarily spend a week in the stocks before handing _that_ gift to Arthur to mock him with. At any other time Merlin would have _welcomed_ the knights observation skills improving, or their general caution, but nooo, _that_ would have been too convenient. Years of Merlin behaving really very well, and it had to be when he finally did start plotting against the king that the knight was going to notice his magic. At least if Leon worked it out and told Arthur the prince already knew.

Arthur looked over and sighed, “No. I’d be surprised if he was. Give it time Merlin. If you can… and random people don’t start bowing to you. That would require some explanation.”

“Not really. He’d _want_ an explanation, I do not have to offer one. It’s fine, if he asks, I’ll tell him.”  
As something clicked in his memory Merlin was suddenly very distracted by the Lord and he couldn’t hear what Arthur was saying, instead reaching out to the men he'd left guarding his mother, _“There’s someone I’m going to send down shortly. Have mum prepare something deeply unpleasant that will have an emetic effect, he’ll be sent down feeling ill, tell him to rest at home, and take the draught just before to help him sleep. There are plenty of ingredients that will cause a feeling of lethargy. The more unpleasant the better. Nothing that’s actually_ dangerous _, but anti-emetics don’t work on many viruses anyway. Name’s Lord Edgar. Nasty piece of work who has a history of preying on young girls. I am being_ very _restrained right now.”_ From the answering fury and confirmation Merlin was certain that the old man was in for a _very_ unpleasant night. Killing was something he avoided whenever he could, but if he was asking Eileen to confront her worst memories and interact with the bastard who had had her murdered, then he was most certainly going to make sure that the old man shared some little of that suffering.

He wasn’t completely comfortable with this aspect of himself,  but moderation was probably better than him openly losing his shit and smiting the old man the next time he tried to screech ‘magic is evil’ or ‘she deserved it’. No one _'_ _deserved it'._ The male servants as a whole made a conscious effort to protect and prevent the maids being assigned to the men who believed that, but even they couldn’t be there all the time. Men with evil in their hearts would always find some way to inflict that evil on others, Merlin had found. In Uther’s court, by Uther’s rules, there would always be a disparity between the testimony of a servant and a noble. Between the weight one’s words carried from the moment of birth. For all his faults- and they were _many and varied_ Merlin knew, Arthur had never fully believed _that_ , even back when he had been cruel as often as kind, Arthur had accepted his manservant’s testimony against Valiant. The rejection still stung to remember, and had been a bitter experience, but the longer Merlin had observed the relationship between father and son- and between father and _daughter_ , the better he understood what a risk it had been. Uther punished Morgana privately, but he had found public humiliation to be extremely effective with the prince and used it with precision. Public humiliation was something with which Merlin was _intimately_ familiar, growing up without a father had made it unavoidable, and for a prince who needed men to follow him to be so punished was vindictive.

 

Leon was watching Prince Arthur and his manservant from his place on the field, something seemed different between them recently, and they weren’t the only ones. Closer and less strained that they had become. Leon wondered if it was better left alone or questioned. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Gwaine, but he knew the man hadn’t been at the tavern as much in the past week or two, and that Merlin had been in the knights quarters more often than usual, even if that had increased with Lancelot and Gwaine’s return to Camelot.  Sir Leon actually _liked_ the prince’s manservant, having been one of the few early on who had considered it may be beneficial to have someone who _didn’t_ obey instantly every time, or called him on the poorer decisions. Leon had worried once about who might be chosen for the council from the men who were ages with the prince, and the wisdom of it all. Merlin’s willingness to tell Arthur something was stupid had saved them from his pride already as far as Leon was concerned.

None of which explained what the idiot was doing talking to dead people, or more troubling, what those dead people were doing listening to him. Or respecting him. Or...well… any of it.

There were many things in Leon’s life that didn’t make sense, like the defensive trees, why druids had saved him, waking up from winning a battle with a dragon to no carcass, the way Gwaine never actually got drunk on patrol… but most of those seemed more dangerous to notice than to ignore. Merlin being director of ghosts seemed to have the possibility of leaning towards noticing being wiser.

Still. Arthur _needed_ Merlin, and if Merlin was executed for necro-something, or plain creepiness, that would be very difficult. So even in light of the Prince’s recent revelations on the subject of magic and the laws, he didn’t particularly want to be going to Arthur, especially as that would mean explaining why he suspected. No. He’d have to wait and see Merlin himself. Hopefully it wouldn’t end badly. Merlin was the only person in the castle who actually believed that Arthur would choose a knight over his ‘manservant’, they weren’t supposed to _say_ friend, and if he did the rest of the knights would blame him for any extra drills.

All he had to do was find a way to _catch_ Merlin, who had always been an elusive creature when he’d a mind to be, but seemed to currently exist only at Arthur’s hip or in a separate place where normal humans could not go. At least the living ones. Gwaine he’d catch with apples or mead, Lancelot by asking Gwen, and Percival- well Percy was easy to spot for most people. As he debated how to catch a Merlin he began to realise how little he actually _knew_ about the man. He knew that Merlin was almost never in the tavern when Arthur thought he was; that he loathed Gaius’ cooking and ate it anyway because wasting food was what he described as ‘an unforgivable sin’. They discussed it once when Arthur had been teasing Merlin about rat stew, after the others had gone to their sleeping rolls, Leon had asked about Merlin’s creativity and lack of horror. He had learned _that_ night what famine looked like outside a castle’s thick walls, when there was no people’s princess, no last minute reprieve. The man has spoken dispassionately and without shame about the reality that the majority of peasants lived with, his own childhood deprivation, and answered the few questions Leon asked without anger or judgement, seeming to realise that the noble had truly never known or understood.  He made rat stew simply because rat was the one thing that stayed after all that was left was bodies; because his mother had made rat stew when that was what there was saying you didn’t have to _like_ what there was, but you couldn’t taste better if you died of starvation first.  
Merlin made it for _Arthur_ partly to see a broken man smile; he had made it for _himself_ because he wanted to live, and from the sound of it his mother had worked damn hard to keep them both alive that long.

They never mentioned it again, but something subtle has shifted that night and the respect that Leon had developed for the kid’s bravery had birthed a respect for his quiet wisdom, often hidden behind the humour and banter, or the less than sane loyalty but there nonetheless. The longer he thought about it the more Leon realised that they saw what they looked for, all of them. Most obviously in Merlin, but not him alone. When Lancelot had first arrived in Camelot they knights had accepted his claims of nobility because they looked for honour and strength of conviction. They saw exactly what they expected because the man had those things in abundance, but they missed almost everything important, even after he fought the griffin.

Guinivere had lived in the palace since she was twelve, and yet had gone almost unnoticed for years because anyone ‘important’ only ‘saw’ her when they looked for a servant, and that was tragic. How much had he missed by never bothering to look, things that might not even be hidden, just not explicitly explained. He couldn’t even claim Merlin had lied to him, because at no point had it occurred to him to _ask_ the man if he had seen a ghost. He hadn’t asked why he claimed to _protect_ Arthur, or perhaps Merlin might have casually told him that he forbade the ghosts from hurting or scaring them. It was unsettling to know that he would have laughed that off as _Merlin being Merlin,_ or told him to sober up before work. Indeed how many of his assumptions were false… because if magic wasn’t evil, and Uther had lied, if Merlin commanded ghosts without effort, then Leon was forced to reconsider a great many things. If Uther was intentionally executing innocents, then could it even be that _he_ was evil, and if he _was_ then how could Leon continue to follow him at all. The only possible way he could see was to give allegiance instead to Prince Arthur, and hope he was a better man than his father- as Leon believed he was. Gwaine obviously believed the same thing or he wouldn’t have stayed in Camelot even for Merlin. Oddly since things had changed between them, for whatever reason, the strain that had been evident between the Prince Regent and the rogue knight at times, had lost its edge. There was no obvious jealousy, and before there had been, no matter how oblivious to it Merlin appeared to remain.

Unsurprisingly the Prince’s manservant managed to disappear without a trace before Leon could get anywhere close to cornering him, and judging by the way everything hurt to move, Arthur was frustrated or worried right now, so asking or indicating concern about Merlin would be ill-advised. Arthur himself seemed to vanish shortly after, and when Leon questioned Gwaine about the whereabouts of either of them the man told him a story about a horse called Beatrix. He didn’t ask again.

The situation was frustrating but not particularly unusual, until he began to listen for the low voices of the servants for some clue as to where he might look later, and instead caught snatches from two about his master being quiet beside himself earlier, and overhearing talk of disquiet spirits being seen only to be told not to be silly; they were seen by those who had magic in the bloodline. Something the first one disagreed with quite strongly.

Immediately he was noticed, all hushed talk stopped and he was watched closely, servants would be fools _not_ to get skittish when it was possible they had been overheard talking about such things. It was pushed to the back of his mind as Leon couldn’t afford to dwell on it in the open either, but it _did_ make him wonder. Obviously the two were mistaken, as Sir Leon certainly had no magic, nor his family, but was it possible that men had misunderstood something with truth in it. Maybe only someone with a legacy of magic could command spirits? Either way if they were wandering about and causing trouble someone ought to tell Merlin to pass on a message, or...or something. In light of Prince Arthur’s revelations it would be a serious risk to have someone demand a witch hunt.

Meanwhile the future king and his advisor were preparing for council, even if Merlin’s attendance was not currently considered mandatory by the others. On the inside the warlock was freaking out, Arthur might be the only one there whose opinion really _mattered_ but he was the most important  and the man was imagining all sorts of horrors, from Morgana storming the council chambers surrounded by giant bats, to Arthur’s trousers falling down, to the druids arriving and announcing _his_ strategic marriage to someone he’d never heard of. Gods knew they’d tried that enough with Arthur, destiny was probably overdue to throw that at him.

“For the love of Camelot Merlin, _sit the fuck down_ you’re making _me_ dizzy!” Yelled Arthur, throwing the nearest object at him, a gauntlet that Merlin automatically caught and threw down on the desk himself. The prince had definitely got less careful with the projectile selection than he was _before_ knowing about Merlin’s magic, and he supposed that it was dysfunctionally sweet that the man had been making some effort not to _actually_ maim him. Right now it just pissed him off, especially the symbolism of thrown gauntlets. Fine, it was probably accidental, not a personal dig, but it _did not help his calm._ Even the usually oblivious Arthur looked slightly shocked when the gauntlet glowed red and began to melt, setting fire to the surface around it. Merlin stared at it, frozen in shock. “What are you doing Idiot, put the bloody fire out! Preferably before someone notices!” Merlin doused it suddenly in cold water. Still in a low-level panic he managed instead to douse _everything_ around it in cold water, muffling a shriek and wondering if Arthur might reconsider executing him as he glared fiercely at his maybe-friend through his wet blonde fringe. “It worked.”

“It bloody better have!” Growled Arthur.

“Hey at least it’s _after_ training, and frankly they’ll like you better if you don’t stink like sweaty pits and feet that have spent too long marinading in toad paste.”

“Toad paste?”

“Physician’s apprentice. It’s exactly what it sounds like, and way more revolting than you’d expect.”

“Noted. Next time you do that punish you with toad paste. I do not have time for your amateur dramatics Merlin, so dry me, and let’s do it.”

Arthur saw his servant hesitate, _“What now?”_

“I amn’t going to magic you _all_ dry. I only wanted a tiny bit of water. I don’t want to accidentally ash you for the sake of laziness.”

“ _Fine”_ ground out the Prince, “Find me towels and fresh clothes and NOW!”

Merlin’s eyes flashed and several drying clothes appeared by them.

It took mere minutes to resolve and Arthur had to admit that he felt better for it, he really had been pretty ripe after using training to get rid of _his_ nerves. They had to find the warlock an equivalent. Somewhere safe… and far away from the castle.

 

Prince Arthur was the first man in the council chambers that afternoon. Usually he took advantage of the fact they could not start without them, and found it could be useful as a subtle reminder of who actually ran it and that the Lords should be careful not to exceed their authority. He arrived before Lord Geoffrey, before the minor Lords, or Gaius, and the king. Flanked by a silent and commanding Merlin. It made him wonder how so many people had ever accepted the man as ‘only’ a bastard peasant farmer. Standing at his right shoulder Merlin had been offering advice, solace, and constructive criticism almost as long as they’d known each other. His right hand side was _Merlin’s place._

He waited to take his seat so that the men would not be standing over him, this time, but none were _late_ this time, a wide variety of expressions on their faces, from silent hope, to a false calm- Merlin recognised it, the man was _too_ calm, too desperate to show that he didn’t care and wasn’t worried. Definitely a personal stake in the issue. Useful to know.

Arthur waited until the unusually quiet council had seated themselves and were shifting uncomfortably before raising the problems of dealing with the dead, knowing it would be the first thing occupying the men present, and that leaving it to fester might allow them time to notice each other more than he’d like. Unlike such meetings led by Uther he did not open with fury and paranoia, or demand to know where the evil sorceress was hiding, stating that he didn’t know what might have caused the spirits of the dead to remain, or how many were present- technically true. The knights were willing to attempt to find out and do all things possible to resolve the problem, but are having difficulty with investigations. Obviously there was no one with the knowledge to be certain but it appeared there was some belief about only those with magic in the bloodline, though perhaps not themselves magic, being able to see them. That was creating difficulty in gaining accurate reports of course. From the little research that it had been possible in such a short time to conduct it seemed that the primary problem was the improper disposal of bodies. He turned to the only one at the table with more practical experience of dealing with death than himself. “Gaius, have you read anything on the subject?” Arthur turn a fiery glare on the physician, his demand clear to the old man, but appearing to the others merely as frustration with a problem that was impossible to fight with a sword.

Gaius kept his expression as controlled as always and clasped his wrinkled hands, “As it happens I do. Unfortunately the physicians trade does leave one with a good deal of reason to deal with the dead, as much as the living.  Due to my obvious responsibility to those patients we cannot save and the protection of those living in the city it was important for us to deal appropriately with the dead and it has been done.

"I believe, from all I have read on the subject- which is a substantial amount, that the body must be properly laid to rest, whether intact or cremated, in order to _ensure_ that the spirit goes beyond the veil and remains there. Any ties to this world to find their way back should be considered, but the most vital must always be treating the body as an empty vessel, not allowing it to lie and fester, or treating the remains in the way of animal carcasses. In order to ensure that the spirit _cannot be disturbed_ or awoken the grave site ought to be marked that others can avoid accidentally doing so. Perhaps the army of the undead reminded them, or disturbed the bala- the permanence. What was done was significant, but since I and any assistants have ensured the proper treatment of bodies who have died after care or required examination to determine the cause of death, I must question sire exactly how it might be possible that such spirits are not passing properly over, or may be disturbed. People always avoid sacred sites and burial sites unless making a pilgrimage. As to the rumours of magic in the bloodline  being related to the ability to see such spirits I cannot say, it has been a long time since such books were available, and there are none now who know those answers.”

Merlin wanted to hurt Gaius for implicating the cup and possibility of magic disturbing the ghosts, despite the fact a sudden acceptance would appear suspicious..

“Thank you Gaius, then we must find out how it is possible for the dead to lie unmarked and without a sign for the living to take appropriate care.”

In the end only one of them caused a scene, or tried. Demanding that they find the evil sorceress who must have caused this and immediately, dead men did not walk.

Clearly, thought Arthur, he had not fought for Camelot recently.  
Merlin didn’t _silence_ him like he had Gwaine, the man wasn’t angry but scared, and making him feel as though he was trapped in his own body or possessed would be both cruel and counterproductive. Instead he increased the sense of confusion, just enough to create a feeling of mild intoxication where words are forgotten, but not enough to compromise his control or cause distress. The emotions were already there, he just needed his concentration broken. Merlin had done so many times with clumsiness, dropping things, spilling water, spiders, and general mild disruption. Today he needed Arthur’s concentration intact.

Lord Geoffrey was calm, and managed to look as though he was reluctantly conceding the point that it seemed one could indeed find ways to practice or learn magic without anyone being aware. Slyly slipping in that if it could happen in the heart of the castle to one who so many of them at the table had been familiar with on a daily basis, then it was clear some allowance had to be made for such cases. Certainly there hadn’t been a concerted council effort to conceal the Lady Morgana, and therefore they were bound as honourable gentlemen to reconsider the law.

Merlin was astounded at the calm, almost disinterested tone the archivist maintained as he outlined the logical necessity of such, especially when he noted the spark of excitement in the eye of the second man present who he was now aware stood with him on the legalisation of magic. Other than Gaius anyway, who was looking pensive and very carefully avoiding Merlin’s eye, which he appreciated as it would be harder to maintain a poker face if the man started his eyebrow- questioning thing.

Having had their own liability in the light of the current laws unavoidably highlighted several of those who _might_ have made a fuss despite the haunting the Lords were backed into a corner, and the king would have been condemning his own son and self to refute it openly. Merlin was practically vibrating as the law which allowed him a family was finally sealed, golden sparks dancing behind his eyelids as he closed them at a sharp sideways look from the Prince and recentred himself.

It disappointed Merlin that Gaius was not more outspoken on the subject, no matter how well he understood being in a similar position, and it appeared that he wasn’t the only one as Arthur looked directly at the old man, who was not being followed, but was by now well aware that several knights, and the prince were knew a great deal, and Arthur had accepted a self appointed magical guard detail for Hunith. For _his_ part he was now very aware of why Hunith was not to publicise her presence or go wandering around Camelot… and that his own treachery would be known to the knights, however they interpreted it.

“Sire?” Said Gaius steadily, looking to all the world as thought he had been thinking deeply, “I hesitate to suggest it, but there is _one_ group whose graves are currently unmarked… some of whom might find it easier to cross over, or harder to discern the lines between the worlds of life and death. Not by dark _intent_ , but by a strong link to nature, or the memories of others, even perhaps soul links, though none have been seen here for many years.”  
Arthur looked attentively to Gaius, listening as though he had forgotten, “Really Gaius? That seems unwise given our current situation.”

“Those with magic Sire, are currently buried in unmarked graves, if at all. They are not included in sites set aside to the disposal of human remains or in sacred ground. The boundaries may perhaps be less clear. People could easily walk accidentally over bodily remains unintentionally and create a disturbance.”

Arthur nodded seriously, steepling his fingers. “That is troubling Gaius. Is there any way restless spirits could be disruptive to us? Or any way to banish them?” He gave Gaius a warning look seconded by Emrys-not-Merlin by his side. “Disruption would depend on the spirit sire, and not without magic My Lord. It cannot be done while they maintain the freedom to cross the veil or are trapped here.”

“Trapped, Gaius, what do you mean?”

Gods, if Arthur was an idiot for accepting Merlin’s terrible lies, Merlin was an idiot for accepting Arthur playing dumb as _being_ dumb, oh hel yes, he absolutely _was_ about some things, but damn he could act. “Unable to cross, and leave this world Sire. There are a few- mostly the young ones- who require a funeral or memorial of _some sort_ to understand what has happened. Certain types of death can be difficult, if I recall the lore correctly. Particularly if there was trauma before final death, or head injuries. Survivors of head injuries have recalled it seeming as though they were watching in a dream, the was one knight several years ago who came close to death by blood loss, when he recovered enough to speak he told me of a feeling of floating above his body and looking down. He eventually returned to duty, but you see it may be that certain types of peri-mortem trauma could deceive the spirit to believe that they are still alive long enough for  them to become stuck. Certain types of magic, such as Seeing can seem like being separate from one’s body while the individual is living, for such a sorceress it may be harder than the majority to discern she is not in a vision but has died.”

“So what you are saying is that our only option to prevent a continuation or worsening of this, is to try and _explain they are dead?!”_ Arthur did a good job of looking horrified  thought Merlin- oh, no. That was genuine horror. Oh well, looked like dead people were stuck being his job then.

“I… Yes Sire. The only physical thing we can do to permanently end this is to reconsider the disposal of remains, and mark a death with a ritual they recognise as a final ending.”

“Lord Geoffrey, I would appreciate your wisdom on the matter. I know Gaius said he has read widely, but in case we have missed something significant you are to search your manuscripts and records for anything that may be of practical use, or guide the efforts of the knights in _finding_ where these unmarked graves are, I most certainly hope it can be resolved _quickly.”_ He rolled his eyes.

“Certainly Sire.”

“I will draft the emergency laws this evening so that there is as little delay as possible before work can commence on ending the crisis, due to the sensitive nature of the matter I wish two witnesses to add their seals to this.”

“I will gladly do this if the solution is so simple!” Stated Lord Geoffrey, opposite him the sympathetic Lord who had remained quiet nodded an affirmative. “If I may read the proposed law first I will give my seal also.”

“Excellent. The laws decriminalising the relationship to a magic user will be announced tomorrow, so that we have a chance at getting an accurate report from the people in any interviews. Any other business?” At the silence Arthur smiled grimly, “In that case the council is dismissed.” They filed from the room very much less settled than they had in a long time. The rules with Uther were easy, simple, magic was evil, swords were good, nobles had honour, and peasants had less, but taxes were used for all the non-magic folk. Unless the rich needed them more. Arthur seemed to be _changing_ the rules, and they didn’t like it. Not that they disliked the specific difference, but they disliked uncertainty and not being in control. King Uther becoming frail or compromised was supposed to open the way for a power grab or a king who sought approval and they could flatter. This was _not_ what had been planned by some of them.  
A confident young heir who disagreed and wouldn’t just do as he was told, it was very annoying, and yet he had no siblings or convenient cousins, only Morgana as a rival, so they were without many options right now. Arthur called to one of the sick looking Lords as he was leaving the room. “Edgar. You shouldn’t have come if you’re sick. Go with Gaius, you look ill and I don’t want to have the whole court come down ill.” Edgar looked at the old physician, eyes narrowed, he remembered that Gaius had been a sorcerer, and had many times told Uther not to trust the man, now this… and yet why wait so many years then lie? Either way the Prince didn’t look as though he was in a mood to be argued with, so he swallowed his pride and smiled chillingly, “Lead on master Physician.” Merlin watched them go. He didn’t trust the man, but there were a lot of people Merlin didn’t trust so that didn’t say much.  
Uther turned to Arthur with fury writ in his eyes and without warning slapped his son hard across the face and spat.  “You have betrayed me more than she ever could. Fool! Sorcerers are EVIL, and they are  _not_ human!”

Merlin only just held back, but this was between king and The Once and Future King.  This time Arthur did not flinch, and he did _not_ apologise. “No father. You betrayed _us,_ and you have torn the world apart doing it _._ I cannot betray someone who is already a traitor to me. To allow a madman to continue unchecked would be a betrayal of the people of Camelot, and it has always been them I serve first. It was the first wisdom you ever taught us. You have sat in the dark so long you have forgotten what light is.”

“I will not allow you to do this, you are nothing, the enemy has taken you, stolen you from me, just like they stole Morgana.”

“No father. No one _stole_ Morgana. How could they? You never claimed her. Nor can you stop me.” His voice hardened, “You do not have the authority, and you are a coward, how long is it since you began to see only enemies? Long enough I think to lose the faith of those you once led.”

For a minute Merlin thought Uther would hit his son again, but Arthur caught the wrist easily and smiled bitterly, “You even see me as the enemy. When wisdom sounds to you like madness you are not stable enough to lead. I will never treat you with such indignity as you subjected my sister and I to, but you have lost my respect father, and I doubt that so late you have time to regain it. I no longer have time to listen to your paranoid delusions, I have a kingdom to defend against real enemies, and a people to rebuild from the ashes you left them in. Decades of a needless war, slaughter and grudges carried across generations. Was your pride worth it?  
I inherit a civil war from you father, and a ravaged nobility whose sons have been all but spent on it, and Morgana is broken. You did this and you alone.” The colour drained from Uther’s face at his words, and he took a step back as Lachlan stepped through the door, a whispered denial falling from his lips.  
Arthur sighed heavily, “Your companion will be waiting for you, Sir Percival will see you to your chambers.” Percy, who had been guarding the doors with Sir Gwaine appeared as though on cue, since the king’s ‘illness’ he had been escorted to and from council, initially for his own protection. Now it seemed, there would be a twofold purpose for that escort.

Arthur had hoped to put off any confrontation with his father, at least until he had recovered from the council, but in the end, he was acting king. He couldn’t just allow the man to strike him and level accusations of treason, but as Percival forced the figure-king from the room he felt as though a part of him had died, the last good memories slipping out of reach, the last illusion of stability shattered.

His father was no longer a resource. Their last words had been spoken in anger, and pain, and _truth,_ and Arthur hoped fervently they were not the last Uther ever spoke to him. Gwaine looked between the men and quietly shut the door. Merlin reached out slowly to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, not offering any words, for there were none to fix it or ease the pain, and was shocked when Arthur drew him into a hug. Arthur never hugged, he knew that. “Say nothing.” The man growled by his ear and Merlin ached, holding him tighter as though it would stick the broken parts together but did as Arthur asked and didn’t say a thing. Merlin let go as soon as the prince’s grip loosened but looked solemnly at his friend. “He was wrong.”

“I know. I just wish I knew if _he_ did or not. If his grasp on reality is involuntarily lost… or his humanity. The way he looked at me… I barely recognised him.”

“Would you have a preferred answer?” Merlin asked quietly, knowing that the prince had just glimpsed the man who had threatened almost all of his staff, household, and the face that Merlin had seen when he was sentenced to execution.

Arthur turned away in sorrow, “I suppose not. If I had known such things earlier perhaps I could have mended the rift before now, or stopped Morgana from being used against us.”

Merlin frowned, he’d gone through every possible course a thousand times trying to see what they might have done differently, where they went wrong. In the end it didn’t matter, they were here now and had to deal in reality. Finding that there were certain prophecies, and appointed tasks that involved more than himself had left him with the conclusion that the end would be the same, some events were sort of… _solid,_ unchangeable, and others were flexible, but it was impossible for a human to discern which was which alone. Trying really was a path to madness.

He sighed wearily, “It’s possible, but _you_ have spent every waking moment since learning these truths on finding a way to end the war, and heal the deep wounds. _I_ have spent every waking moment trying to do everything possible and some thought _im_ possible to support your plans and establish a peace between communities. Morgana, for all her understanding of how evil the king’s actions were, and her anger, has found no new ways to address them, instead repeating Uther’s own patterns, and rather than closing divisions she has inspired fear.  
I think if she had truly wished for peace, she would very quickly have found her way to Emrys. That she did not tells me her heart was never in finding a lasting peace Arthur. Morgana before she became dark was skilled at court and strong. No-one could use her against her will Arthur. Whatever has happened since, she arranged one assassination attempt after Gwen’s father was executed. In all the time we lived in the same castle she never once dreamed of my magic, despite seeing events that were warnings for me. I cannot believe that the triple goddess withheld such knowledge lightly when it may have saved her priestess suffering. Make no mistake Arthur, there is a price when a sorcerer or sorceress uses their magic for evil, or twists it to darkness. Not the way you fear, but in the same way that killing with sword, axe, mace, knives change you. Morgana has done terrible things… she will find no peace this side of Avalon Sire, and for her sake and ours I wish I had not taken pity on her before. Kilgarrah said what followed would be of my own making.”

Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulder and repeated his earlier words, “He was wrong.”

Merlin snorted. “You’re really going to compare Uther’s delusions to the wisdom of a thousand year old dragon, last of his kind, and my kin?”

“Well, he’s an interfering busybody who thinks he knows everything and that it is completely reasonable to demand a green teenager save Albion and places immense responsibilities on your shoulders then buggers off. All the while expecting you to one day produce an heir for the preservation of the House. So yes, yes I am going to compare them. Merlin, I regret that she has brought war, but I am glad you acted to save her before. Had I known of your magic then I would have demanded you do the same and damn the consequences, I think you understand now, as you understood then. My half sister is a traitor, not for the fact that she is a witch but because of her actions. You can carry guilt for your own actions, but to take on personal responsibility for each and every action of those around you is a crushing burden and can paralyse a man. Kilgarrah may not be human, but he is sentient and has emotions. He spoke angrily, and he was wrong about that Merlin.”

“Promise me something Arthur.” The prince looked strangely at Merlin, hearing the thread of insecurity in his voice, he folded his arms and raised a brow, “That really depends on your request, but you may make it.”

“Never stop using my name. Don’t let me forget that I’m Merlin. The Catha- well they don’t know me as Merlin and I doubt will ever agree to use my real name- my birth name. The Druids insist on Emrys, and once it is more open I doubt anyone new will use just ‘Merlin’. If no one ever called you anything but ‘My Lord’ or ‘Sire’ it would piss you off, and you _knew_ you had more than one address. I just never want to be something distant or weird and official with friends.”

“You _idiot!_ I’ll call you whatever I like, whenever I want; I will never forget your name _Merlin_ , lord knows I’ve spent enough of my life yelling it. Even if I must introduce you as Lord Emrys or High priest Emrys or whatever, you will always be Merlin my idiot servant. I’m counting on it. Now shut up before I actually catch girlishness from you.” Arthur cuffed the man lightly and cleared his throat. “You have training with Gwaine to make, and I have to catch Geoffrey. I do not expect to be dining with the king tonight after all, it seems as though you have some time for your own study or work.”

“Uh… actually I need to see Kilgarrah tonight.”

Arthur cocked his head, “Anything I should know about?”

“Nooo, just that I am feeling somewhat… pent up. Your extra energy was channeled by trained and beating the shit out of other knights to make a point, yeah? If I did that it’s fell Camelot and take a lot longer to clean up, and end with a gory execution. I don’t fancy, so the closest I’ve got is taking ‘Garrah and hijacking the wind ok? Plus I actually need to clear the Catha with him to see if they aren’t spies of the Witch.”

Arthur nodded slowly, “Then you’ve my blessing. I expect a proper report of your armour’s performance in the air tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow I have some solemn tasks to attend to sire. Arthur, Gaius and I will be absent for the morning, but before nightfall I will give you an accurate review.”

“Good. Before you leave with Gwaine please eat something, that way something might actually stick. You will learn better for it, and don’t forget to have one of them give you a rub down later, after you’ve spoken to the old friend and wind.”

Merlin smiled tightly, “Wouldn’t dream of collapsing at so inconvenient a time _sire.”_

“I am _grateful_ ,” dragged out Arthur, words seeming to fail him for the moment, he had always been a man of action. “For having you by my side, and your maintained composure. I had to control my temper today and I have no idea how it did not break you years ago to stand and hear what has been said around this table, not least by myself. I am _ashamed_ of doing so for this long, and committing such deeds. Too many people have met their end or been condemned there.”

Merlin shrugged, “So replace the table. It’s not like you don’t have a spare, and the round one’s bigger anyway. If you plan on adding a few chairs you’re gonna need it. Might as well, plus we already know it’ll survive a battle unscathed.”

Arthur was about to snap at Merlin’s ridiculous notions and ability to miss his confession and turned, catching sight of the man’s face, slight amusement playing on his lips but it was obvious that he hadn’t actually misunderstood. The frustration was replaced by a faint relief, “You know that’s not a bad plan. Not today, but soon.”

“No Arthur. When you replace the members. When you choose your own council, mine don’t _have_ tables the same way to meet around, but if there was a glade that had been desecrated or held a dark past that tainted it they would move on and refuse to rest in in. It’s a similar gesture, since you cannot move the castle.”

“Can you?” Arthur asked curiously.

“I won’t.”

“But could you.”

Merlin could feel a surge in his chest at the idea, somehow his magic rebelled against it on an instinctive level, a ringing alarm that affirmed the ‘wrongness’ of the suggestion.

“I won’t. Maybe parts of it. Camelot was built with magic and is bound to rock and stone, I think that trying to tear them asunder would be unwise and likely to unleash something terrible.”

The prince grimaced, “Let’s make sure the Witch doesn’t work that out then. Be careful, they will be watching us now Merlin.”

“They’ll be watching _you_ you mean _.”_ Merlin smirked.

Arthur shook his head. “No idiot, they’ll be watching _Us,_ because everyone present today seeks power and the king’s ear. They have seen that Uther is no longer the force to try and influence and soon will move their focus, it will make you a target Merlin, and a rival in their eyes.”

“Aargh, fine, I’ll be careful alright? Not that it makes a blind bit of difference, you’re still bloody reckless and I can’t exactly just leave you to it! You wouldn’t last a week without me saving your arse.”

“Perhaps not. Lord Geoffrey however is _not_ going to be my demise and Gwaine is waiting.” Arthur strode over and opened the door, catching the man he expected, “Gwaine, take Merlin somewhere far away, remember food, Don’t come back until you are both calmer.”

“Yes Sire.” Gwaine bowed, which caused Merlin’s eyebrows to climb, the man was never sincerely deferential, until his eyes flicked down to where the side of Arthur’s face, dark bruising now clearly visible and his rage simmered. “I can- if you want it to…” he spoke quietly, “I can hide it.”

“Like your own?” Arthur frowned, “No, there will be questions about my father taking to his rooms and requiring a guard, keeping this will answer them far more clearly than anything I could say, and discourage the noblemen from asking. I may stop by the physician’s though.”

Merlin nodded, knowing the prince was correct, but it was still unpleasant to openly bear the marks. “As you wish sire, if you change your mind borrow a neckerchief.”

Arthur looked at his odd manservant, “Gwaine? Explain.”

“Many uses neckerchiefs, tie knots, use for a sling, bandage, or _cover things up easily._ ” Gwaine wore his usual easy-going expression but his attention on them was acute.

“I won’t.

Merlin ran his palms down his face. “I know.” The anger flared when he saw it again.

“And that’s exactly how we feel when _you_ turn up bleeding and broken." Arthur cocked a brow at his best friend, "You have some rather important news for Gwaine now though, don’t you. Sir Gwaine, congratulations on being the first to benefit from the new allowances.” This time when he smiled it was genuine, and Gwaine’s jaw dropped, “You didn’t!”

“I didn’t.” Began Arthur.

“He did.” Arthur looked startled at Merlin’s declaration, the man’s eyes were gleaming and Arthur honestly worried his face might crack if he smiled any wider, or worse he might cry. Arthur had no idea what he was supposed to do in either case and felt horribly awkward with so many _feelings_ on show around him. His own tumultuous emotions aside, he did understand the magnitude of his actions and Merlin’s inability to hide his joy; and as he observed Gwaine pulling the man into a rough hug with a similar, if more restrained expression he began to think that the personal pain and hardship might be worth it after all.

“Well, I have to get our man here out of the castle before the shock wears off and colourful plants start sprouting from unlikely places.” Merlin’s answering giggle was bordering on hysterical, “I _will_ see you later Sire!” Gwaine bowed low, slapping Arthur on the shoulder and dragging Merlin behind him, still beaming inanely and looking rather like he was high. “Right then magic man, the neat thing you do with time, do _that_ till we reach the stables and the pair of us might make it out of the city alive.” Merlin nodded, not sure of the wisdom, but the magic was singing now, there was no way they wouldn’t be caught going past everyone. “The beasts are ready for us. So’s the food in the saddlebag. Now _run!”_ Gwaine grinned manically as everything around them froze and Merlin did as he was bid, with Gwaine following two steps behind. As things resumed their normal pace Leon noticed Merlin ducking into the stables without Arthur, and followed but stopped as he heard another voice he recognised and that was odd. He couldn’t approach Merlin with Gwaine there without cause, and could hardly ask the other knight to leave, which he wouldn’t do anyway. Leon _hated_ the combatant reaction to authority but really, Gwaine was worse than most Lordlings and princes he’d had to deal with. Moments later they were gone, further down the road out of the gates than Leon could account for, but he _had_ been very distracted, and now he had another puzzle. Why on earth would they be taking so many weapons when everyone knew that Merlin was lousy with a conventional weapon? Or was he? Wondered Leon, because no matter how he looked at it, there really was no way that an untrained, unarmoured, farmboy should have survived so many battles and skirmishes.  Even _with_ hiding. There was a reason they didn’t let green knights do the dangerous patrols until they had some experience on low risk ones.


	43. Chapter 43

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Merlin and Gwaine managed an almost normal speed to the city gates, and maybe twenty yards further before Merlin’s mount took off, and went flying over the field, the warlock howling his joy incoherently. Gwaine laughed in delight and kicked his own horse into racing after them.

When they caught up Merlin was still smiling, but looked less like he might explode any second. They sky above them had cleared and the sun seemed to shine almost oppressively, which Gwaine figured made sense, nature seemed to be as linked to Merlin as he was to the world. The druid legends suggested Emrys was magic incarnate, magic itself in a human vessel, so Gwaine wasn’t entirely  surprised that his friends was _resilient._ Or that the woods seemed to be more alive than usual. Realising that several birds had decided to use Merlin as a perch was too much and Gwaine dissolved into giggles.

“What?” Asked Merlin. “They’re friendly… and clever. Why else would we use them to carry messages?”

“Because few people have your skills or the tools to speak over distance anymore.”

“You disappoint me, I always thought you’d more imagination than that. Treat them right and birds will become friends, even bring you presents. Honestly, sometimes I think animals are better people than people. Today though… oh today is _different!_ Can you _feel it? In the earth and the air!”_ Merlin grinned as he threw hands up in the air, startling the avians who chittered angrily at him. “Sorry”

Gwaine shook his head ruefully, “No. But I can _see it,_ and that’s enough. It went well then?”

Merlin looked more conflicted than Gwaine anticipated as he turned back to the knight. “I- Yes. It went far better than I ever expected, Lord Geoffrey is the canniest bastard in that place, perhaps more even than Gaius. The meeting was smoother than it might have been, and the only major problems were after. Come, we should be further from the citadel first.” Merlin smiled again and guided his mount through the forest in the direction they had been before.

“As you wish.” Gwaine followed eagerly. Arthur seemed to think that he’d suspected the laws against all magic had been lifted, but Gwaine was no fool, that was not the work of a day.  What he wanted to know was had he _begun_ to loosen them, to act on his new conviction, and challenge the current king. Judging From Merlin’s joyful mood, in spite of a clearly tense ending, there had been some significant progress made today. A low chant drifted back to him and he realised that Merlin was singing, not something he had heard before, and Gwaine was familiar with many tongues. He refrained from interrupting when he realised it was the old tongue, the music was not for him, but for someone else, if Merlin even realised he was doing it. Wherever they passed the plants grew just a little thicker, the flowers somehow brighter. For Gwaine it was like some strange dream, but beautiful in a way he hadn’t seen before, and he had seen many beautiful things in his travels. They slowed as they reached the clearing and Merlin crossed the boundary, jumping down from the horse, thanking him.

Gwaine dismounted in a slightly less manic way, but no less impatient, and his friend leapt at him, almost crushing Gwaine, mail and all. “I’m going to be _free!_ Free Gwaine! He did it! He really did it. Magic isn’t legal yet- not yet- but we don’t have to be _alone_ anymore, we’re not deadly, a poison, I can- we can have friends, or family, or tavern maids serve us, and not put them in danger simply by existing. Anyone can speak, interact, even not report us, and it’s not a crime.” Merlin drew back and Gwaine saw tears of relief and joy streaming down Merlin’s face, “I won’t get you all killed, at least not by execution. No more Toms.”  
Gwaine chuckled, “Congratulations Merlin, you gave them all back their families. So does this mean no more exposing children or abandoning them in the woods?”

“It-yes Gwaine, yes it does. Not for magic at least. We can- we can be _real_ Gwaine, really, properly _real._ There’s more than that though, and the Lords did get played a bit for this, but otherwise it might not have been- um, it would have been a big risk. We won’t be human just during life, he made it so- so that everyone will be remembered, the graves will be marked. No more gutters, or ditches, or middens, or unmarked mass graves. Arthur even tricked them into agreeing to marking all the ones that have been left, I don’t know- how do you _thank_ someone for that, Gwaine? I can return by law to my father’s body, if anything remains, and treat it with respect, the genocide will no longer be hidden. Once the knights begin to search for and help mark the places- oh, yeah, you have a part in that too- it will be impossible for some of the people of Camelot to ignore the way they have been, and the scale will become clear. The crisis. Without any sign, it’s easier to not see, but with the symbols present, it will be a reminder of the truth. He did it, he really actually changed things.”  Gwaine pulled the man back in, swaying gently as magic swept over him, warm, tingle, and absolutely thrilling.

“I’m glad, and so, so happy for you. Looks like this one might actually be worth dying for eh?” Gwaine smirked and nudged him as Merlin laughed, relief flooding him as doubt he hadn’t even realised he still carried melted away. Hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush tangled in Gwaine’s hair as he pulled him into a rough kiss and Merlin half whispered “I’m not a death sentence anymore.”  
The knight leaned back slightly stunned, “No Merlin, you aren’t. It’s almost over.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his friend’s lips and released him not wanting to reject him _or_ take advantage, and right now, he decided, it would be doing so.  
“Not yet, but it’s another step, a huge one. How did Uther take it?”

Merlin sighed and looked down, “Not well. He knew, realises I think what Arthur’s end game is.”

Gwaine nodded, he’s seen the machinations of such men for long enough, “Mmm, he has been playing these games a lot longer than his son. He was responsible for the bruising then?” the ex- noble knew he was, no one else would dare to raise their hand to the Prince regent, and if they had, would have been escorted out in chains.

“Yeah. Yeah he was, and I almost reacted to it, but Arthur… Arthur challenged his father, confronted him. It had to play out without me interfering. I don’t think it’s finished, there is a great deal of pain and anger in that, but Uther knows he has been toppled. He is the king in name, but only in name now.”

Gwaine nodded, “Then we shall have to be extra careful, Uther is like a wounded animal cornered, he will not be reasonable with so little left to lose or keep him grounded.”

Merlin chewed his lip, lost in thought. “We will be. We’ll have help too. Mum staying with Gaius will ease demands on my time for now so that training and studying is a practical demand of the prat, and she has some training in medicine from living with her brother before. Big age gap, he seems to have more or less raised her. The Catha can help me figure out what is going on with the blood magic under the castle, and Leon is- well Leon’s close I think. He was watching me really oddly earlier, but hasn’t said anything.”

 “So is one of your mum’s guards going to go over some battle magic with you?” Gwaine asked hopefully. Reactions might keep you alive in battle, but strategy and knowing what to expect from an enemy was better. Gwaine was sure Merlin would not have touched the dark magic, but he _kne_ w that Morgana was an expert in it.

“Aye, and hopefully some of the history too.”

“How do you know?”

Merlin grinned, “Because I’m going to tell them to, and they _want_ to help Emrys. Which is weird, but convenient at this point. Plus, bored mages are never a good thing, trust me on that!”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow, “Oh really?”

“Really.” Merlin rolled his eyes and grimaced as memories of his own ‘bored’ exploits assailed him.

“Well, can’t have you getting bored can we, oh mighty foretold one.” His friend winked and leaned in for another brief kiss, “Come on then, knives out, we’ve got training to do, and princess knows the difference in the way people move after training together and _training together._ I don’t fancy that lecture tonight, so whatever this is, exuberance and adrenaline or more, it’ll have to wait, and now we’ve got time. Not dying is also an advantage. Assume the position.” There was a wicked twinkle in Gwaine’s eye as he gave the order and stepped back to draw his own weapons. Merlin found he was actually enjoying sparring now that the instructions were clear instead of silent and repeated insinuations that he was a little girl with pigtails, especially here where he didn’t have to keep all of his magic in. Which today was impossible, he just couldn’t.

Even Uther couldn’t take this triumph from him, it had been years in the making and he was bloody amazed it was happening. “Watch the trees mate, reign it in or spread it out, they’re getting a bit tall and the druids will be pissed if you give away a decent spot like this.” Gwaine was smiling in amusement at the oblivious warlock, concentrating on his next movement until then. Merlin paused, looking around them and frowned, noting that the knight was right, the trees surrounding the glade were getting too noticeable above their neighbours. He stretched out his arms and concentrated on bringing more in line with the height so that it should only be obvious from the air, and he was the only one flying over Camelot as far as he knew.

Training hurt less than the day before, though his muscles still protested the abuse, and it gave him somewhere to direct the surplus energy. Around them various slumbering seeds and acorns had started germinating whenever there was a random wave of magic, and Gwaine was more than a little relieved that they were far from the castle to do this, if only to tire Merlin’s body enough for him to rest or stop bouncing. He had no idea how long they were but the sun had dropped much closer to the horizon by the time they stopped, panting for breath.

Gwaine grabbed his water skin and tossed one to Merlin, “Your blocking is getting much better, but watch your feet, and you need to practice moving with more than one blade together, or weapon, if you’re going with the fireball thing, which I grant you is very effective. There was this one woman and she was _not_ a morning person, didn’t hurt me but my shirt had no chance.”

Merlin laughed, “Mornings aren’t really my thing either but fireballs? Mum would have made me rebuild the house by hand, and that’s _after_ she was done with the lecture… or skelping if I was younger. Bit of an over reaction to being woken up early.”

Gwaine snorted, “I thought so. Still, I escaped in one piece. That coat seems to work well, I glanced your side pretty hard a couple of times and you didn’t notice, you should definitely keep it on with Uther as volatile he is. I don’t think he’s the type to give up power so easily, and if he raised his hand to Arthur he won’t think twice before killing you.”

Merlin rubbed a hand down his face, “Yeah, I know, me neither but at least some good has come of it. Arthur is clear about where he stands, stood by his convictions when challenged, and seems slightly less conflicted about his feelings towards the king who raised him.”

Gwaine snorted, “If you think _Uther_ raised Arthur you’ve given him far too much credit. Merlin, kings don’t raise brats. There’s little point to having the heir underfoot until they’ve survived infancy, proven hardy, and are full weaned. Until then they might be raised by a queen, but in her absence, he’d have spent most of his time with a nanny; then a nanny and a tutor. Most princes or nobles would learn as a squire to someone very close to the king, and when the nanny withdrew he would have begun to spend time in court and with his father. Perhaps seven or eight years old on a regular basis, and learning from his father, but though Uther was the strongest and most potent influence in Arthur’s life, it was not him who cared for the boy, not like Hunith did with you. I know how scarce things were, and what not knowing where the next meal will come from or when is like, though you’d not know it looking at me now. Took a while to adjust when I ran. My mother was much closer to us than many noble women are to their children. Kept no wet-nurse, nor nanny for us as little ones, and still we had tutors and lessons, but my half brother had _all_ of those, and his mother was a lot warmer and fuzzier than Uther. Different priorities Merlin, different worlds. I hold a lot of anger towards Gaius for his decisions, but I believe he and perhaps some others tried their best to mitigate the effect on Arthur of his father’s rejection and coldness. Whatever motivated that. The court would have seen and followed his lead, so any respect or real acceptance is something Arthur has clawed and scraped alone. Power is his inheritance, the rest he's earned by shedding that blood.”

Merlin sat down, legs aching, hoping he’s be able to get back up, and Gwaine joined him. “I never really considered it. There wasn’t much point until recently. If you are going to be involved you’d find out at some point, and I need to speak to the Prince Arthur about it.”  
Merlin frowned deeply as he began, “Arthur’s birth, and Igraine’s death were not unconnected Gwaine, and therein lies the trigger, the spark that set off the Great Purge. Morgana proves Uther is not sterile, but he and Igraine had been married for several years and finally told there would be no children together. She was unable to bear them, or go to term at least. So, with Igraine following the Old religion- like me it’s not a choice, it was a part of her, one that could never be removed- they turned to magic.”

Gwaine blanched, “Goddess no...so Arthur… that's where he learned a life for a life?”

Merlin ran a hand through sweat soaked hair and sighed, “Arthur is a child of the old religion in perhaps the most different way possible to me, but the Old religion knows him. Even if his birth had been different it would _recognise him_ as a living part of Albion through my aunt, but with it that’s twofold. Morgause tried to tell him once- well _did_ tell him, but she twisted the truth, manipulated it, and now I know more it makes far more sense than her version of ‘truth’ did, which felt corrupted. She wasn’t completely _wrong_ about the manner he was conceived or born, but she did not tell him the truth, and I have no idea if it was really Igraine’s spirit we saw, or if she was in control of her own words at all if it was. Morgause definitely opened the way to the other world, we saw one of the dead, and she spoke; but whether it was Igraine or an illusion, truth or trick, I still have no idea, and I was so naive then, painfully so. The priestess was very skilled in the black arts, _dark_ magic. Arthur rode back wrathful and held a sword to Uther’s throat, I stopped him from killing his father.”

Gwaine listened carefully. “Why?” He asked simply.

“Because Arthur was not ready to be king then.” Merlin sighed again, “Oh, he could have been _crowned_ king, but he would never have become a _great_ king, he wasn’t ready, and he strove always for Uther’s approval. Too full of self doubt. Even now he loves his father, so back then, before everything... It was the first time Morgana met her half sister. If Arthur had come to the crown through killing Uther it would have broken him, and the last thing _we_ needed was a second broken king, crippled by guilt. Camelot would have been lost, let alone Albion. My own darkest desires to see Uther gone, or suffering, were never to be indulged, and seeing them devour Morgana has been a constant reminder of why I mustn’t succumb to them, for anyone. Vengeance between one farmer and another is unpleasant, but unlikely to spread far. Morgana and I are different. I have greater power than she does, but she is second behind only me, no one else would have a chance. If both of us became dark, or power crazed, we could change everything, cripple the world I think, rewrite it. Destruction is easy. Healing is hard.” Merlin gulped as he admitted such to his friend.

 

The knight nodded, looking only slightly troubled. “Good thing you like a challenge and impossible odds then I guess. You think he’s ready now?”

 

Merlin shook his head and spoke firmly, “No. I _know_ he is. Standing up to Uther about _this_ specific subject, he all but told the man he’s bringing magic back to Camelot, and that he’s taking the throne. Officially he remains only regent for now, but Uther has lost the war and he knows it. Even if he can claw back _something_ he isn’t stable or showing any signs of improvement. He is beyond healing. I suspect, with Gaius, that this is the final symptom of a very long sickness. There is no chance of him returning to power or mounting a successful challenge. The rule of Camelot is Arthur’s now. I’m not sure he’s quite aware of how far it’s gone yet, but he was the one to warn me the Lords focus is shifting, so perhaps he does. I fought against Destiny for a long time. It seemed like it was stealing everything from me. I was losing hope I think.”  
Gwaine winced in sympathy and Merlin chuckled, “Yeah. Never that effective, once I stopped and sort of accepted things more, people stopped dying quite so frequently, but I sort of lost myself in being his protector.  That _was_ my ‘destiny’, but it’s only one part. If the rest is ignored we’ll never do what we’re supposed to achieve, but now so much is suddenly different and I’m less certain of _who_ I am as my _place_ in it all becomes clearer. For so long I had the mask, the surface- _Merlin._ Like a cloak that you wear, and most of my life was hidden. Now people know, or care, and I don’t exactly know what to do with that.” Merlin frowned. “I know what I’m _supposed_ to feel but keep getting hit by waves of confusion and disorientation when I least expect it. It’s almost as though part of my identity has been lost, and I had not anticipated _that._ ”

Stretching out, Gwaine rested a hand heavily on Merlin’s thigh, “Well that makes sense. You’ve had years of anyone who knows telling you over and over that it has to stay secret, to hide everything, keep it all inside and controlled. Never let anyone close enough to guess, pushed people away when they did get too close for their own protection, and now all the rules are different. It’s not like Gaius, or Geoffrey, who remember a time when magic and it’s users were free, they lived longer _with it_ than _without._ The effects of living in secret for so many years will remain, but you are fighting the instinct to run, and honestly no one but those closest to you can  see it, or your stress. That’s amazing. Very useful for official situations too.”  
Merlin smiled, “You always did see. Even when Arthur missed it.”

“Aye. Princess does have a lot to worry about though, I can cut him some slack if he’s at least _trying._ Don’t ever tell him that, or I _will_ punish you.” Gwaine mock-glared at him and Merlin smirked, “Just try it. You’ll lose.”  
“Only if you cheat.” Said the other man.

“Using magic isn’t cheating, it’s just using my natural _talents_ effectively. Isn’t that what I’m meant to learn?” Merlin laughed as his eyes flashed gold and Gwaine’s hair turned pink.

“Oh you _complete ass!_ Change it back!” came the demand, and Merlin giggled hysterically as the knight lunged for him, and started to speak in the old religion when Gwaine tried to wrestle him into submission, instead ending up thoroughly bound in roots as his friend laughed at his immobility. “Apologise.”   
“No.” Gwaine smirked defiantly.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, “Fine, I’ll just leave you here to be found by the first druid to come out here for some alone time shall I?” Merlin smirked back at him as Gwaine rolled his eyes and reluctantly conceded defeat, “Alright, I’m sorry for implying-” Merlin’s eyes narrowed, “ugh, _accusing_ you of cheating, it was dishonourable and- can I get out now?” Merlin’s mock disapproval vanished and he waved a hand that had them melting away without leaving a trace, “That a party trick or one you don’t show off?”

“Ah, yes. Well, since magic is still actually illegal and punishable by death there are absolutely _no_ ‘party tricks’ and I never show them off to anyone. Lance has seen some, and Gaius, he helped at times. No one is _shown_ anything casual, well, except Will, but we were kids, and stupid, other than that it’s just you. The Catha earlier though I showed a little. No tricks, just let them feel.”   
“Ooh, _That’s_ what scared them, apart from your mum.” Gwaine raised his eyebrows and leaned back,

“You have _no idea_ how scary Hunith can be. Do not mock.” Merlin’s eyes widened as he shook his head, still slightly in awe of the woman who raised him. Protected him, despite her serious mistakes. He had _not_ made it easy he knew.

Gwaine frowned, “I wouldn’t. She had toddler-Emrys and survived.”  
“Yes you would, you mock _everything.”_ but Merlin looked at him fondly as he said it.

“Hey, I resent that. I mock _almost_ everything. Not that.” Gwaine said seriously.   
“Hmm. True. You really haven’t, have you.” Merlin looked consideringly at his friend, “You never pushed me to talk either did you? Lancelot’s seen more until recently, but he never got the secrecy part and when not to ask questions…”

“I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite to have done that now, wouldn’t I.” Gwaine answered the unspoken question.

“Not the worst kind,” said Merlin, thinking of Uther, “but a hypocrite, yes, and that wouldn’t be _you.”_

“No. So. If Leon asks, will you tell him?” Gwaine asked, without indicating a preference either way.

Merlin ran a hand down his face, feeling heavier, “It- It depends _how_ he asks, and _what._ Arthur spoke to him about things yesterday, about the nature of magic, and his father’s actions, how it’s not a choice to have it. I don’t know exactly what was said, but Leon was quiet and sick-looking this morning.”

Gwaine nodded, swigging water from the skin. “Aye, no doubt. Leon’s a good man, with a gentle heart underneath. To find out that something so fundamental was _wrong_ … He’s been a knight of Camelot for a long time Merlin, obeyed the king in good faith, but it means he was an active part of things he now discovers were evil. Oppressive. His understanding of who and what he is is shattered. Leon has the heart of a protector, and courage. He rode out against Kilgarrah during his vengeance phase. He will be fighting an internal battle reframing all of his actions for years. He isn’t ‘the good guy’ anymore. I’m gonna hazard a guess your mum told you cautionary tales about men in red, to run from anyone in chainmail. Probably even if they took her.”

Merlin frowned. “Yeah. She did. We lived out of the way so I was fortunate and only saw them a few times, but when I did I ran until my feet were torn up and my knees buckled, like she said. Wasn’t bad advice for a kid who panicked. Fight, flight, or freeze, right?”

Gwaine nodded seriously, “Right. So he’s just realising that he is the monster, the scary man who might come in the night in those stories. Someone children are taught to fear and flee from, that they believe is fuelled by hatred. Things are more complicated than he thought… and likely has recently found out that magic has been working for good all around him, because I seriously doubt Arthur hid _that.”  
_ Merlin gnawed his lip thoughtfully, “Do you think he suspects me?” he asked softly.

“I’ve no idea mate. You can ask him when we get back, I’m sure that you’ll find out soon enough if you allow him to find you.”

“I’ll see how he’s feeling towards the subject then if he keeps watching me. No one should feel like a monster, I know that well enough. Like all of us he’s a good man who has done terrible things. There is time to make restitution for it, and bring peace I think. I need him not to gossip about this though. Do you think he’d let me spell him for security?”

Gwaine chuckled, “No. No I don’t. Despite being worse than an auld wifey for minor things though, he has never before spilled any plans of strategy, actual intelligence, or told anyone about last night, so I suspect this might be one of his major exceptions. Don’t you?” He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder encouragingly. He couldn’t offer guarantees, but Gwaine suspected that Leon might deal with the revelation better if it wasn’t given in a group, without warning.

The warlock hummed noncommittally. “Maybe, I just- I don’t like so many people knowing important things, dangerous things, it isn’t safe.”

Gwaine rested a hand on his shoulder, “Was it safe before? Concealing everything alone?”

Merlin smiled bitterly, “You’re right. It’s never safe.”  
Gwaine grinned and gave him a friendly nudge. “Oh, don’t sound so surprised, I can be right sometimes, and things are getting better, are they not, Merlin?”

His smile lacked the bitter edge this time. “Yes. Yes they are. I think our time is up Gwaine.” He hesitated for a moment, “The river is on the way. You up for a swim to clean up?” He raised an eyebrow and caught Gwaine’s answering grin, “Absolutely!” It was the first time Merlin had suggested it since Will, who knew the few scars he’d had then and didn’t care, but Gwaine had seen his far more significant ones now, even touched them, and not been invasive, there was no one else. Despite what the other knights thought Merlin _liked_ swimming, especially in the Lake, but that was not for sharing, and he wasn’t at all ashamed of the work hardened wiry muscle, different from their own, he just didn’t want to answer questions. Gwaine didn’t ask them, and that was exactly why it was easier to give answers. The innate respect. Servants rarely got it. Especially from a master, and their friends often followed that lead. Prince Arthur had certainly _not_ broken the mould on showing respect to one’s manservant, and to be fair, Merlin hadn’t prioritised doing his official job well enough to be respected in that capacity by the nobles without any personal connection to him.

Whistling for the horses they returned, both mounts looking very happy with the abundance of new grass to munch and snickering. “Come on. Back to reality, and sorting out twenty odd years of fuckery, dealing with Catha warriors, my mother, Gaius, a mad and freshly deposed king, and not-quite impossible research. Ugh, how did this become my life? I only came here to train as a bloody physician!” Merlin groaned.

“Well, you’ve done that too, it’s your third or fourth job. Congratulations?” Gwaine said, cheerfully shoving the gurning warlock towards his horse, “Away with you. It is what it is. At least Camelot’s got mead.”  
“More than mead, if you know where to look.” Merlin winked.  
“You’ve been holding out on me! We must raid the cellar at once!” Called Gwaine jubilantly.

“Sure, let’s piss Uther off _even more._ No Gwaine. Not tonight. Tonight belongs to ‘Garrah, and I need to drag out Catha one- goddess I need to get their names, I was in shock earlier when they turned up with no invitation and it slipped my mind, we need to see if he’s legitimate or not. You can come if you want, or stay.” Merlin shrugged, as though he hadn’t just casually invited someone to have a chat with a dragon.  
“No thanks mate, I’ll pass this time. If it’s alright with you I’ll keep an eye on Leon, unless you need the company. Stop at mine when you get back though and I'll do the same as last night. Anyone else would take it for granted and have a squire or maid do it, and I promised the Princess I would not break or otherwise harm you.”

Merlin shook his head, "No, he needs it more than I do. Just try and convince him he’s not evil, and that we’ll forgive him.”

Merlin fell silent then and Gwaine let him, glad he was feeling calmer than before. It made being discovered before they were ready less likely.

 ----------------------

Leon looked around him. There were no urgent tasks to distract himself with, and his mind kept returning to the records Prince Arthur had shown him the night before, names dancing before him, leaving him wondering which belonged to his visitor.  

It was late when he saw Sir Gwaine returning to the castle followed by a grinning and slightly dishevelled Merlin, both with damp hair, but he had seen George with the prince, so there was likely not a rush for him to get back. He waited for them patiently in the gate the would have to pass through, surprised when the stalled and cast loaded glances at one another on seeing him.

“Sir Gwaine, when you are not busy I would like to see Merlin about an important matter.”  
Despite his tongue feeling too big and his throat drying up Merlin managed to agree and to be in Leon’s quarters in the next half hour.  
“I guess he’s not going to be put off for long then.” Turning to Gwaine, Merlin chewed his bottom lip.

“I guess not.”

Slinging the weapons on his bed Gwaine stretched his neck. “Well, have you decided what you’re going to say?”  
Merlin’s brows knitted together, “No. He seems nervous. Nervous isn’t a good sign.”  
Gwaine reached out to clap him on the shoulder, “Try and relax. Remember, he’s just found out he’s the big bad wolf to kids like you. The nervousness isn’t over you, at least, nowhere near as much as it’s over himself.”

Merlin nodded, but still felt his heart heavy as lead when he knocked on Leon’s door,  the room, usually perfectly in order showed signs of things being thrown or broken recently, and Leon was sat in one of the chairs, a game still set on the table. “You asked to see me?”

“I- I did.” Leon steadied his voice, “Come in, there’s cider if you like, and bread, not much but it’s something.” Seeing it made Merlin realise just how hungry he was, and he accepted without argument. “Thanks Leon, but you didn’t want to see me just to offer snacks. Spill.” Merlin tried to look cheerful. Thinking about the new laws helped.

“I-This is difficult to explain. Just…” He took a deep breath and began again. “Merlin, do you often speak to ghosts?”

Of all the things he’d been expecting, that was not the question, Merlin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Um… well I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘often’ really, like, weekly, or monthly or…”

“Why are they banned from scaring us?”

Suddenly Merlin realised what the looks were for, “Oh. Oh! Right, well, if someone doesn’t know they exist, or is um- a bit easily alarmed- it wouldn’t exactly be fair to go around haunting folk from boredom would it? Watching without permission and trying to frighten people is bad manners. Being dead isn’t a pass for rudeness. Who decided to break the rule? It’s not exactly complicated!” He growled.  
Leon’s looked conflicted “No, actually she helped, came in because I was distressed she said… but she knew you, quite well I think. You don’t seem surprised.”

Merlin groaned, “Ah, fuck. Pretty, young looking? Kind of sweet for a dead girl?”

He nodded. “That sounds right. Does she- did she have a name?”

“Eileen. You met Eileen. She doesn’t mean any harm, really. She was no witch in life, just turned down some asshole’s advances, he accused her of witchcraft and she burned in the courtyard at fifteen years old. Early in the Purge. She likes listening to you gossip and tell jokes, Percival and Gwaine have met her briefly. Calls Gwaine ‘the crazy one’, and Percival is polite or ‘not crazy’, but she doesn’t often appear to anyone. Except apparently me, which is probably a good thing, given how twitchy some folk are about anything out of the ordinary.”

 Yes, thought Leon, there _had_ been an Eileen on the lists about that time. “But you-you just see them all the time?”

Merlin shrugged, “Not exactly, I see them when they want to be seen, or talk, maybe if they’re bored.”

“They? Plural ‘they’?”

“Well yeah, where there’s one there’s often more. Would you want to be stuck alone for eternity? Seems like a pretty rough deal even with company.”  Merlin looked puzzled, actually he had given it some consideration and concluded that the only sane thing to do in that situation was to find someone else who could see you. “There’s a sarcy bastard who drives me crazy, and apparently screaming sisters, who I have been fortunate enough to never meet. Not my thing.” Merlin shrugged.

“Right. And- and do you know _why?_ Why do they come to you? She seemed to be taking instructions from you so obviously they can _hear_ you.”

Merlin paused and carefully considered the knight. “What did Arthur tell you last night?” he asked.

Leon looked at him puzzled, “You know about that?”

Merlin frowned, “It involves me more than I’d like, yes I’m aware of things.”

The older man’s lips were pressed thin together, “He told me a great many things. Too much. I’m- the things I’ve _done._ ” His throat began to close over, and the despair in his eyes was genuine.

Pity surged in the warlock watching, and Merlin looked away trying unsuccessfully to stop his hands from shaking. “You are… you are _not_ a monster. I-I’m in a position to forgive you, Sir Leon. You- well not specifically _you_ but… the knights in red, the men on patrol, anyone in armour… they were the figures in my fireside stories who stole children, burned them. I was taught from infancy always to run as fast as I could, to breathe quietly, cover a track, memorise the caves; for good reason. You were my ogres, my equivalent to your evil sorcerer, and it’s taken years of living alongside people like you to fully understand. I’m the last of my bloodline Sir Leon, and that bloodline is magic, irrevocably, from the dawn of humanity it has always been. I can’t change it, and if I could I would not. That’s why I see them so easily, why they listen to me, and the why of so many other things. I spent years feeling like a monster, so sure I was blackened inside, so many were certain that warlocks and sorcerers have no soul, or worse. I’m not. Neither are you. You are a good man Leon, and you are forgiven. Like others you were deceived, taught lies, and were trying to what was right. Before you ask, Prince Arthur knows. He’s known for some time, and it has been a very difficult mess to come to grips with. He trusts you. I can't yet with something so big, but I’m willing to try if you are. If you trust him.”

Leon lurched for the bin, emptying his stomach, and apologising as a concerned warlock rubbed his back going automatically into physician mode “Really? Thought you knights were meant to be tough.”  
Apologetic and embarrassed, the first knight sipped the water that Merlin passed to him, summoned with his illegal magic. “I don’t think this is covered by that.”

“No.” Said Merlin seriously, “Nothing covers this, and believe me I wish I had a better answer for you than that we do have a plan for peace, but that is for Prince Arthur to disclose when he believes the time is right. Are you going to be ok with me? I promise, the prat is safe, I will never hurt him, nor is he without his own will. The stocks are entirely his own idea.”

Leon paused, and considered it, “You really do _follow him_ , don’t you?” He sipped the water again. “I trust Prince Arthur. Given how many times you’ve put your life on the line and almost died for him I trust you with his safety and care. The other things I’m going to need some time to get used to.”

Merlin nodded. It was better than he could have expected a month ago. “That’s fair. I won’t push you, but I’m not going anywhere so if you plan to stab me it’s be simpler just to get it over with.”

Leon looked horrified, “I couldn’t kill you, you’re _Merlin.”_

“Sure. That’s a terrible reason to decide anything, but I appreciate the lack of screaming or waving pointy metal at me, it’s irritating when people do that, or scream ‘sorcery’ hysterically, I mean really, was that the most creative they could be? ‘Sorcery’? Ugh. There are many things you are nowhere near ready to hear, but we’re slowly trying to include the members of the round table to varying degrees, which l am now also non-optionally part of. Either Arthur's idea of a joke or a punishment. Possibly both. Now you get to make a choice.” Merlin drank the rest of his cider and grinned.

“Will you follow Arthur or not?”

 

Leon looked nervously at the door, worried about being overheard. Taking the opportunity of his distraction Merlin’s eyes flashed to keep the conversation between them.

“He is my captain Merlin, and in light of what I now know, my allegiance is his alone. I- I can’t follow Uther’s command anymore.”

Merlin rubbed hands down his face, meeting his eyes seriously, “You won’t have to. I’m the physician’s assistant Leon, not just a simple herb picker, hel Gaius wouldn’t have let me do _that_ if he had any doubts about my ability in _that_ area. You have been close to Arthur through all of this, and have seen the additional responsibilities he’s taken on, despite hoping Uther would recover. We know now that this is not going to be the case. There is potential for the damage to be _managed_ but not for healing. Minds are surprisingly delicate things and Uther is not a young man. I will not tell you what I’ve seen from him, or any other patients, but no, there is no chance of enough of a recovery to safely reinstate him. Understand Leon, Uther has _never_ been my king. Ever. I submitted to him when necessary because I care about Arthur, and had a task to accomplish. Then it was mostly protecting him, and he became my friend. Arthur is and always has been my King. I can’t explain it yet, but I was _literally_ born to serve him. No other man has dominion over me, and it wouldn’t be safe to have them believe it was possible.”

Leon looked afraid for the first time, “You’re no mere trickster or apple magicker then, are you.”

Merlin smiled quietly, “You might say that, yes. I learned a long time ago not to magic apples after someone caught me, Gwaine can get his own. You remember Ki- the Great Dragon?”

“I will to the end of my days, that’s not something a man forgets Merlin, facing down a dragon.”

Merlin closed his eyes to hide the emotions that stirred "No. No it isn’t.”  
“Oh, you were _there_ with us!” Leon recalled.

Merlin hesitated, “I was. That’s where magic bloodline gets complicated. I- after my father died, it left me as the last.”  
Leon was confused, “Last what?”

Merlin sighed and looked away, “The last Dragonlord Leon, you don’t know until you try it if you’ve inherited the gift, but when Balinor died, it was only me. Dragons are sentient, they speak, they think, they love, and- and hate; they have names. Kilgarrah is the name of the Great Dragon, and I commanded him never again to attack Camelot, or any human, he answers to me Leon, that’s why there was no body. So no, not just a jester who fancies risking execution.”

It left out any mention of Emrys, prophecy, Druids, Catha, while conveying a distinct and unique position among magic users until he could consult properly with Arthur.

Leon was nodding calmly as though something puzzling finally made sense. “That’s why you rarely look afraid, except around Uther. Arthur and I _were_ unconscious, you faced the dragon alone. What else have you been fighting I wonder…”

The young warlock shuddered. "Too much, and honestly, I’d rather just be a servant or farmer. I don’t seek power. I don’t _want_ to lead men in battles, I don’t want to risk other lives, one of the things that brought me here was needing to learn some control to stop having accidents that put anyone at risk.”

“So you came _here?!”_ Leon was incredulous, and Merlin couldn’t blame him, it was counter intuitive even when one understood the rest.

“It’s a long story- like, over twenty years long story and we _still_ don't know all of it, Prince Arthur is the one you need to speak to. If he is busy, or you need someone less _directly_ involved, Gwaine, or possibly Percival are aware of all the things that Arthur has explained, but not of your past actions. How much of that you share is your own business. You don’t owe anyone an explanation, or an exposition of your pain. Just know that you are not a monster Leon, only a man; and that you are forgiven by one who has the authority to do so. As the Last Dragonlord, I speak for the creatures of the Old religion, though not every sorceress, and _definitely_ not for Morgana. _I_ forgive you any past actions, and so your crimes against _creatures of magic_ are absolved. Now that you know the truth, do better. I know you can, and that you keep your word.”

Leon looked at him with caution and curiosity, “You are not what I thought.”

Merlin huffed, “Actually, I am exactly what you thought, it just isn’t the whole of me. Had you looked, I suspect you’d have seen more than the fraction and I may not have lived this long.” He smiled easily, unnervingly casually referring to his possible execution.

“If I’d asked before about dead men, what would you have said?” Leon asked, remembering his own earlier conclusions about his possible reactions to the veracity.

Merlin thought, and shrugged, “I don’t know, probably would have depended on the day. Distracted you most likely, or ducked the question, if you pressed, either the truth, or a terrible lie. If it makes you feel better, when I do tell the truth people tend to laugh, so I lie less than you’d expect me to have to. People are very odd.”

“You always did say you protected him, saved ‘his royal ass’, and we’d laugh, but you weren’t joking, were you?” Leon spoke slowly.

The warlock snorted, “Not even a little.”

“I think I need some time. I won’t betray you though Merlin, you need not fear that. If you were going to kill anyone here you’d have done it long ago. I know how the prince used to treat you, and others, and it’s hardly only his things you have access to in your place. The Prince has made his position clear, I am sure he has his reasons. It does not seem to have been a rash decision.” Leon remained troubled, but he was right, it had taken Arthur much time and thought, and he still had a long way to go. Without that training and motivation it would take Leon longer.

Merlin nodded, focusing on remaining calm. Save any freak out for later, sane and stable in front of the worried friend.

“No, it wasn’t. This has not been easy for anyone. He’s a prat, but Arthur really does care about the safety of Camelot’s citizens more than anything else, there are many who will be safer if they aren’t being burned for being alive.” Merlin raised a brow and folded his arms, confident that Leon wasn’t going to challenge him on that.  “Look, I’m working tonight, but think about it, and Percy and Gwaine are safe to rant at… and confidential. You want me to have a word with Eileen? She’s going through a _phase_. Keeps waking me up at the crack of dawn.”

He didn’t add Lancelot to the list; Lance might share too much of his details, or accidentally make Leon feel even worse than he already did. They were very similar in many ways, but half of him wanted to keep Lancelot for himself, a last piece of familiarity, and the other two had spoken with the prince themselves. Lancelot had only been punished yet, not, to Merlin's knowledge, interrogated.

 Leon winced, not convinced telling off the wandering dead was wise, “Uh- no, it’s ok, just, maybe a little warning would be good.”

Merlin grimaced, “Yeah, dead folk aren’t great with keeping track of time, it apparently is different, I don’t know, but warning isn’t their strong point.”

Leon stretched tight muscles, “Then she may return if she wants, though I’ll never feel as relaxed about it as you apparently do, but no catty man or screaming girls. At least until I can get my _own_ thoughts in order.”

Merlin nodded, clapping Leon on the shoulder, “Sure, I’ll pass the message on when I see one of them, and send up some food since I ate all your bread, long afternoon, and it’s miles better than my usual fare.” He grinned and swung out of the door, making it halfway down the hall before letting the mask slip and dropping his head back against the wall. Eyes closing, “Oh my gods, oh gods, fuckfuckfuck! That was so _not_ meant to happen.”  Gwaine’s door opposite him opened, “You sound...Well, how is he?”

Merlin groaned, “You know that stick you keep saying it stuck up his arse?”

“Yeeees?”

“I think it’s time for a replacement. Stick’s getting unnaturally flexible." Gwaine's face contorted with suppressed laughter, "Oh piss off you ridiculous pervert.”  
“I’m not the one who ties people up and gags them Merlin.”   
“Yes you are.”   
“Fine, yes I am- but not the only one.” Gwaine grinned lasciviously, “the more rope the better, but you have proven quite thoroughly that you do _not_ in fact need yours.”

“I’m keeping it anyway.” Merlin folded his arms, grateful for the distraction.

Gwaine nodded toward Leon’s door, “I’ll give it an hour, if he doesn’t seek anyone out before then, I’ll go check on him. Anything you want me to watch for?”   
Merlin sighed and ran hands through his hair, “I don’t think it’s anything we can help with. He asked for time, so I suppose that’s what I give him? Unless he tries to go to Uther, and then I’d have to place a memory block or something, but I’d rather it wasn’t so important the first time.” It was risky too, and they both knew it.

Gwaine leaned against the opposite wall.

“Will you be back in tonight _after_ your visit?”

“Yeah,” Merlin smiled, “No plans for testing my resilience to heights tonight, or staying out all night, tempting as it is. Priorities and being responsible and so on.”

Gwaine grunted and acknowledgement, “Come pick me up when you get back, the time is unimportant, I’ll keep an ear out. Your muscles will need sorting again, and Kilgarrah nights appear to be unpredictable. Good lunch with the visitors… and the Royal prat.

Stopping by the physicians he collected all the medication for evening rounds, delighting in the fact they were all ready for him. He really hadn't noticed the difference as it came on slowly, but suddenly the contrast was unavoidable, and his throat ached. Uther was younger than Gaius and his working life was over. They really had become careless, acting as though the aged physician would simply continue. As he had said to many, many patients, even the most advanced medicine could not defeat ageing.

His mother had a cup of hot chamomile tea waiting, and two men waiting with her. Debating leaving the drink, it was held out to him silently; he took it, wanting Hunith to see she was not being rejected, draining the up. "Thanks mum, haven't really stopped today. If there's anything you need find me or Gwen, or the one as big as a tree, Sir Percy. There is much to discuss but I'm still working, so it may have to wait until morning. I will be here very early tomorrow. I… It will be painful I suggest that you wait for now. Thanks for for fixing all this up though." He gestured to the basket of remedies. Merlin was long passed any basket carrying aversion. There had to be a better way. A more _manly_ way to carry it all, but some of these took days to concoct, and risking spillage was foolhardy. One day there would be a solution. For now baskets were better than hands, and also hid valuable items easily. Fill it with flowers, shrooms, or oil and no one would ever ask and poke around it.

"Any time Merlin. Please be careful. I will take care of him as long as it's needed. There's no rush for _us, OK?_ Tell him I say hello." Merlin was startled, he hadn't mentioned plans to Hunith at all. She smiled sadly, "You have the same faraway look your father would get on such nights." It was an explanation, but made him more aware of the missing pieces and his voice was rough as he replied. "I know you will.  Goodnight mum." He pulled her into a hug and caught the eye of the tallest catha warrior over her shoulder. " _You come with me tonight."_ he sent, the almost imperceptible nod enough of an answer. _"At the stables, one hour."_

With the rounds done, there was only the Prince to deal with before night truly fell.


	44. Chapter 44

  
  
Helping Arthur prepare for bed was not an easy task that night, and Merlin was certain that there would be no sleep for the Prince for a long time to come, but he had not been wasting any of the time that he was awake recently. Merlin was far too familiar with working through insomnia or for a distraction from everything else. He wasn’t about to comment on Arthur’s without the man seeming open to it, and the day had been loaded for all of them.  Bittersweet for the prince as he _finally_ opposed his father and _won,_ but at significant personal cost, however expansive the payoff. There was no way that he would ever be able to achieve peace and justice, _and_ keep his father’s grudging respect.

Merlin was dismissed without any rancour, but seeing the tension around his master’s eyes he resolved to make sure Arthur was provided with a strong sleeping draught the next night, for a better option than wine.

Hungover Arthur was a _terrible_ thing. Poor George.

 The Catha warrior was waiting with two horses saddled, as a slightly dazed stable boy stood in the corner. Merlin rolled his eyes and glared at the man, “Next time _don’t_ hypnotise or otherwise _tweak_ the memories of stableboys and maids, it’s not fair and we have to account for our time. Bad Catha Warrior!”

The man’s lips turned up at the corners even as he apologised meekly, “Yes My Lord. I shall desist.” _Good,_  thought Merlin, at least he had a sense of humour, that was a favourable sign.

“Mount up, we travel fast.”

“Ride fast My Lord? Or with you doing the time bending thing?”  asked the man in all seriousness.

Merlin’s eyebrows rose, “You can feel that?”

The man tipped his head towards the horse, “No, not exactly, but we can read the signs and train for years to recognise _all_ types of magic. Yours is quite _unique_ Lord Emrys.” 

Merlin hissed something to himself.  “Right… well that explains a lot I guess. No time bending this time then. You can explain what that is to me later, I’ve never come across it in the books.”

“You wouldn’t, it’s not common knowledge and too dangerous to share outside the highest ranked orders. I’m sure you’ve met over confident youngsters in other fields eager to try things far beyond them, with or without experienced supervision. Such a thing with time would be exceptionally dangerous, even in the extremely unlikely case of them possessing the raw power to do such a thing.”

 Merlin nodded absently, he met such youths, if he was honest, underneath the ‘Emrys’ thing he still was. What was worse was that he really _did_ have the power to accidentally do these things. He looked around the stable after checking the stableboy wasn’t damaged at all and grinned.

“Aww, you got Trixie- she’s mine then, aaand, huh, Alwin. Oh well, no accounting for taste. Let’s go.” As they left his companion turned and asked Merlin about that.

“Oh, nothing’s _wrong_ with him, he’s just a bit… sensible for this kind of trip. For a horse. Reeeally doesn’t like dragons, thinks they see him as dinner and want to eat him because- well because they do. See _this_ would be a good time for your hypnosis or imposed- calm trick, because they _really_ don’t like it when horses go missing.” 

The older man chortled, “Ah. So can I assume from that we are going to meet with the Great Dragon?”

Merlin grinned, “Oh yes! Kilgarrah hasn’t had so many visitors in at least a quarter century.”

Catha warrior one, as Merlin thought of him, looked concerned,  “Not that I’m not honoured Lord Emrys, but why are you allowing me to accompany you there?”  
Merlin chuckled, “Call it caution. Kilgarrah has lived a long time, and remembers _your_ kind well. He’ll know whether you’re the real deal or not, and he is very, very difficult to deceive. He’ll only hurt you if you hurt me- or he _thinks_ you’re going to hurt me.” Even then Merlin suspected the command not to harm humans would hold, but the one beside him didn’t need to know that.

“So, what is your name? Do you lot even have names, or is it like some of the nobles where they gain the title and no longer use their first name?”

The Catha man eyed Merlin carefully, “Wow, so… your education about this is-”

“Sparse. Yes. Thus Kilgarrah’s involvement. Answer me.” Merlin wasn’t about to tolerate disrespect, having watched Arthur for years he’d learned there was a fine line between friendly cheek, and damaging insolence, he could relax later, rather than become harsher.

Clearly his companion understood as he answered quickly,  “We have names. There are levels within the order that have designations, so someone more advanced I would address as ‘Master’, even if he was lower than another who would be ‘master’ to him. Some give up their own names as an act of sacrifice, going by ‘servant of the goddess’, or ‘Seer of truth’, that sort of thing, symbolising setting aside their personal wants, but the majority do not. My name is Oswald. My father was not native to this land, but my mother was a druid, she met him travelling and when he died well, she wanted me to have something of him.” He shrugged. “I do not answer to Waldo, no matter what my friend tells you.”

Merlin grinned “What about Ozzie?” The man groaned, “You are Emrys, I answer to you by any handle. Even if it _is that.”_

Merlin made a face, “Keep calling me Lord Emrys and I guarantee Ozzie will stick. If I get a name that makes me twitch, so do you. We’re far enough to evade notice, now _ride hard.”_ Merlin leaned forward, sighing as the wind swept through his hair. It was a poor second to Kilgarrah, but it certainly beat trotting sedately or trudging for miles through the mud.

They reached the clearing- Kilgarrah’s clearing as Merlin thought of it- as fast as he had hoped, and Merlin set wards around the area that would allow the horse to wander but not spook. Striding out to the middle of it he through back his head and roared, leaving poor Oswald trembling. He had _heard_ of this, learned about it and many other things in detail, but hearing the tale and _experiencing_ it were completely different. He had never expected it to freeze him or be so overwhelming- or for it to come from a man who in most of his life demonstrated great humility and restraint.

“He won’t be long,” Merlin called over his shoulder, “He’s in the area already. Waiting, I’d guess. He’s a sneaky bastard who _knows things._ Hopefully _some_ of it will surprise him. There’s ale in the water bag next to you if you need something stronger than water, and some bread and cheese if you get hungry. We don’t always go up together, but tonight is definitely that kind of night, so you might have to occupy yourself a bit. Unless Kilgarrah decides you are trying to assassinate me, when it won’t be a problem.” Oswald looked nervous, but not guilty, and stood stoically, so Merlin let it go and didn’t try to talk to him while they waited, unlike Gwaine this was not someone accustomed to inane chatter or friendly banter in near death situations… yet.

Kilgarrah descended as always surprisingly quietly for a creature so large, settling in front of Merlin. Noticing the second man he bowed to Merlin, not a habit that they usually maintained, so the warlock concluded it was for Oswald’s benefit.

“Kilgarrah. It is good to see you once again old friend.” Merlin reached up to touch the massive dragon.

“And you my Lord. It appears that you have been very busy since we last spoke, there is one with you who is no knight of Camelot, or passing druid.”

Merlin smiled, glad of Kilgarrah’s calm response, “No. He is here for a purpose though and at my request.”  
“Request, Emrys?” He raised one scaly eyebrow.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Fine. My command. You happy?”

“Happy is a subjective term My Lord. I am content. What is it you need this night?” Merlin stared at Kilgarrah, puzzling over his odd behaviour and wondering for a heart stopping moment if the witch might have got to him somehow.

_“I am not possessed Young Warlock, the witch cannot touch me, but I think the man behind you may keel over in shock if we speak as normal_ . _Dead men are not useful to you.”_

Well, he wasn’t wrong, supposed Merlin. “ _Drop it as soon as we leave the ground ‘Garrah, it’s driving me spare already.”_

Merlin glared at his dragon, patience stretched thin by everything, “I require your assistance in ascertaining the authenticity of this man’s claims, Kilgarrah.

He and his companion arrived in Camelot earlier with my mother,” He rolled his eyes again, “Claiming to be Catha warriors called to protect her, and since then also to be skilled in healing. Your experience would be valuable as I have never met one of their Order, and do not wish to make a mistake that may endanger the destiny we have worked so long to fulfil.”

The dragon raised a brow and smiled, though to anyone else it would look more like a threat as he revealed more razor sharp teeth.

“Bring Him forward, I do not speak to men who skulk in the shadows.”

Merlin cringed. “ _Unnecessary jab ‘Garrah.”_

The unrepentant dragon sniffed Oswald as he came to stand before him, and snorted smoke over the man. “You carry the weapons appropriate to your position, and the charms. Shed your tunic, you know what I expect to see.”

Oswald glanced towards Merlin, but did as instructed, deciding not to pick an argument with the massive, fire breathing dragon.

His torso was _covered_ in various tattoos. Some connected, some not.

“Turn.” Again he did so, and Kilgarrah seemed to relax slightly.

“Good, good. Sole of you feet now, come, you cannot be so shy as you would have me believe.” Oswald complied and Kilgarrah seemed satisfied. “Redress. Tell me, what do you know of extraction practices.”

Oswald swallowed, “I know _how._ I have observed on two occasions. It is not a practice I have ever engaged in, nor do I wish to, it is _barbaric_ but the theory is something all must study, if for no other reason than to establish and practice our defences against it.” Kilgarrah nodded and puffed smoke again.

“You will teach these defences to Lord Emrys. The theory will not become practice.” Kilgarrah growled mildly, apparently enough to scare the man though.

“Your other skills are… satisfactory. My Lord has been woefully deprived of such education through no fault of his own, and after the destruction of such knowledge and orders such as your own going into hiding such training is difficult to obtain. It is vital that this be remedied. Is your _friend_ of the same affiliation?”

Oswald looked chagrined, “He is, Great Dragon.”

“Good.” Kilgarrah nodded firmly, “I will meet with him to be certain.”

Turning to Merlin now, ignoring the Catha he smiled, “He is what he says. You may trust him, though he has learned their other art of torture and confession, he has not used it and shares your revulsion of that. It is why he has been held back from advancement. He and his friend, if _he_ speaks the truth are experienced and hold skill just a level below a high priest, but have not earned that position in their order as a result of refusing to perform certain _services_. A full Priest of the Catha is not permitted to pick and choose which elements and services he will provide. He is not his own. Only the High Priest may command them otherwise. _You_ would not be able or willing to work with one who had done such things for their own advancement. Or at all. Given your _experience_ I cannot disagree with such a choice. You may not have called them here, but someone with greater knowledge than you possess did. I suspect one whom they serve.”

Merlin let go of tension he didn’t even realise he was carrying, “Thank you Kilgarrah, you serve well as always. There is news from Camelot that you may appreciate.”

Kilgarrah nudged his Lord, “So says the wind and the water. Magic begins to flow again. Your excitement earlier left an amusing sculpture in the treetops.”

“Well then, if you don’t want to know…” Merlin shrugged as though he would stop and Kilgarrah rumbled his amusement, “Indeed. I am listening My Lord.”

“The first laws have been changed. Knowing or being related to one with magic, or trading with them, or offering shelter, no longer are crimes. The change is not to only carrying a reduced penalty, but to no longer include such in the criminal code at all. The ‘crime’ no longer exists in the law and justice of Camelot. It is a beginning. Our graves are now compulsory to mark, and our bodies must be properly treated. The death rituals which cause no harm will be restored. This is not commencing now but retroactive. Those whom _you knew_ , and were subjected to listening to their suffer, will be honoured in at least the most basic ways. Magic is still not legal, but it is coming, we are no longer condemned to a life alone if we do not seek death, and in death will no longer be considered _less t_ han human.”

“My Lord, you may wish to calm down _slightly._ You are floating.” Kilgarrah chuckled.

“Well that isn’t very impressive, is it.” Merlin frowned as he settled back to the earth he was supposed to walk.

“I fear it is a little low for your taste Lord Emrys. Perhaps you will allow me to remedy that?”

Merlin beamed, “I have a coat to test properly, let’s fly _high_ ‘Garrah.”

“High and fast then we shall go Lord, the coat is one I recognise. I never expected to see such again.” and Kilgarrah launched them both into the air, leaving Oswald to stumble across to the sheltered area, and open the ale with great appreciation for Merlin bringing it with him.

They were barely in the air before Merlin threw his arms out, holding on with his thighs. The coat, he found worked far, far better than any cloak ever had, the tight lacing leaving no places open for the wind to catch.

They reached the clouds quickly and Merlin screamed in exhilaration, feeling the joy echo along his connection to the dragon beneath him, the building excitement, and the sense of magic daring to intrude on the land again. A growing awareness the seeped into empty places he hadn’t known existed. Knowing that Kilgarrah was flying _with_ him, not just carrying him as a dull passenger, the next time he flipped over, Merlin let go; speeding downward and letting the dragon catch him before spiralling back up through the clouds and finally calming. Reaching out for Kilgarrah he felt his hum of contentment reflected and spoke to him mentally, not bothering to try and compete with the wind and the air currents.

_“Arthur challenged Uther. The old man knows what Arthur’s doing. His power base is weak now, and his mind weaker. Not in front of the council, but I don’t think he really had to, they have seen the balance changing already, that the regent is no longer a child, or a boy openly in need of his father’s favour.  Uther attacked him. He’s alive but effectively under house arrest, restricted often to his chambers.”_

Merlin didn’t often mention the old king to Kilgarrah for obvious reasons, but felt it was important now, and worth disturbing painful memories for.

_“Challenged his father did he? Well it’s about time. I thought the nights in dungeons would have done it years ago, but no. Nor the hidden beatings. At last then Courage has embraced his_ own _courage, as Magic now acknowledges himself. I wonder how many of the others come forth finally into their true selves. Strength came first for both of you did he not? Others must then begin to follow their paths.  You must watch for the witch closely now. She will feel the disturbance, the shifting in the fabric of the world. She has reason to avoid notice for now but you know that will not last.”_

Merlin knew he was right but pushed Morgana aside to worry about another day, he had enough concerns in the present. “ _Is Oswald safe to take into the castle vaults?_

The dragon hummed under him, “ _Yes, though they will anger him, as they anger all of us."_

_“Why did you have him disrobe? The marks mean something, don’t they.”_ Merlin had understood that much.

Kilgarrah made a pleased sound, “ _Yes, Merlin. They show his skills, which forms of magic he knows, special gifts. By rights you should carry the same type of signs, they carry across language barriers and time.”_

_“I don’t think I’m ready for that. He would recognise blood magic then, or a dangerous curse?”,_ Merlin frowned, he was torn between wondering if he’d qualify for _any_ marks as he hadn’t _mastered_ many of his skills, or if they’d want to colour him in like a manuscript. Still, at least he wasn’t going to be expected to pierce anything. He shuddered as he remembered what some of the kings and chiefs from history had demanded their advisors do.

He allowed the world to fall away and his mind to drift for a while until Kilgarrah beneath him turned on a wingtip _“Yes he would. You are still troubled by what you saw. If you wish to do this tonight we must return, time is not on your side.”_

_“Is it ever?”_ Merlin tried to groan, but it was impossible to sound grumpy in the air.

_“Occasionally. I will stay close my Lord Merlin. Should you have need of me.”_

_“Stretch your wings a bit ‘Garrah, don’t stay just because_ my _life got even crazier, you were forced to inactivity for far too long.”_

Kilgarrah tumbled them and his dragonlord laughed, _“Hey, I’m not telling you to piss off, you’re welcome as long as you don’t try to barbecue them, I just don’t want to be yet another person to_ trap _or chain you. Destiny’s let you go for a while, might as well enjoy it, at least on my behalf.”_

_“You are many things Merlin, but a chain was never one of them.”_ Kilgarrah could speak surprisingly gently for a creature his size.

“Thank you, old friend. I may have need of you without Warrior number two tomorrow. It is not going to be an easy day I think. I have a past to reckon with.”

_“It is the past that birthed you Emrys. Do not be afraid of facing it… and remember that you do not have to be alone.”_ As they landed gracefully Merlin jumped down and gently rested his forehead against Kilgarrah’s.  

“Thank you. Your wisdom does not fall on deaf ears ‘Garrah.”

The dragon raised an eyebrow and smirked _“That makes a change for once, Young warlock.”_

“Goodnight My Lord”, he spoke aloud, and taking off left the men in the clearing.

 

“That was… overwhelming. Intense.”

Merlin chuckled, “That’s the general consensus about first meetings with Kilgarrah. You’re cleared though, and apparently someone who I can work with. I didn’t call you, but someone did, so I guess you’ll just have to earn your keep. Before I let you go back to the physician’s there’s something I need your help with, and we can’t just go wandering about there at high noon. I regularly break in, but have only recently had official permission to enter. It will make you angry, but like Kilgarrah and I you’re going to have to swallow that and focus alright?”

Oswald nodded hesitantly, “Yes Emrys.”

“Good,” He whistled sharply and their horses returned. “Mount up. We’ve got work to do.”

 It was still a relatively new feeling to Merlin to have _allies_ in Camelot. Or anywhere really.

As they snuck through the darkest corridors there were fewer guards, for some reason it was an unpopular place to guard. Maybe the non magic folk _could_ feel _something,_ thought Merlin.

_“Ic ia tospringe”_ The heavy door unlocked and they slipped through into the first section of the vaults. Oswald gasped in a mixture of horror and astonishment, “I know; but careful there, we’re still close to the door. Remember, _focus._ There are things here that can draw a person in, _be careful._ There’s something specific I want you to look at- well, actually there’s about a hundred different very specific things I want you to check, but tonight there’s a priority. Follow me and do not turn off.” Merlin half suspected the tunnels changed to keep people who didn’t know where they were going disoriented.

Fortunately the man behind him didn’t argue, instead murmuring an agreement and fixing his eyes on a point between Merlin’s shoulder blades, which unnerved him, but he decided that if it worked and they didn’t get separated it probably didn’t matter _how._

By the last bend Merlin was feeling unnaturally chilled, a growing sense of horror at the prospect of morning and seeing where the owners and guardians of all the items kept here had ended up.

The very air around him felt oppressive and he was almost regretting coming in when he saw what he was looking for. “Here. I need you to see what you can make of this, I haven’t touched it or disturbed anything, but if my research is correct, only a priestess could have set such a thing.”

Oswald shook his head, kneeling down to examine a section, “No, a High Priestess, or her equal. This is no simple thing, to affect only one individual- Uther if you look at the rune here- it is designed to be generational. To pass down his line. I do not know which woman did this, only that she is no longer living. It’s well done at least.” He barked out a harsh laugh, “Oh but look _here, now that is interesting._ It links Uther’s fate and his offspring yes, but- here and here, two different terms. This one is ‘his firstborn’, and _here_ ,” Oswald pointed delicately, “It reads ‘his _heir_ ’.

Not an obvious difference really, certainly not years ago, and it does happen, but unusual when it’s a spell specific to a particular individual like this one. His _fate_ of body and spirit is tied to his firstborn- which actually would explain some things, and here _, his heir_ refers to the ending of the line ‘as should always have been’, to suffer from the blindness and arrogance of the father- and isn’t that odd. It’s specifically written to have multiple meanings. That’s forked, she left them both an out. It was not written to inflict suffering on his children as such, but to link the consequences in a manner that they do not continue for many generations without being accounted for. Who would… If Uther had recovered himself, and refrained from such violence, this would have been a blessing, it is _he_ who makes it a curse. If Uther had cared for his people properly, there would be no blindness for Arthur to suffer from. That is…

I wonder who this was done by, not Nimue. I’ve seen many examples of _her_ work, it was easy, practised, precise, this carries a similar subtlety though, it’s highly likely the author was familiar with Nimue. Not cold, but this is _personal._ Morgause? No. Too recent, this is _old_ , settled deep, and Morgause would never have risked Uther’s heir surviving. If she used blood magic for something like this she would place a death curse.

I wonder…” Oswald paused and looked piercingly at Merlin, “How many people knew of Morgana’s parentage?”

Merlin thought back trying to work it out, “Not Gaius, he didn’t realise until after I was here, Geoffrey knew I believe, but has no magic. Nimue knew of Morgause’s, and likely Morgana’s but you said this is not her work. If Vivienne had a confidante or sister perhaps she would have told them? And Igraine. Arthur’s mother knew. Records around that time are patchy to say the least.”

“Did she now.” Oswald chuckled. “I can’t tell you for sure yet but have three theories. I think that whoever wrote this knew about Morgana, and I _suspect_ they knew of Arthur’s conception. Even outside of Camelot there were rumours among the magic folk, things never quite added up. Either one of Vivenne’s many sisters wrote this in anger not realising that Morgana was Uther’s firstborn, which would account for the lack of finesse if they were grieving, and also accidentally protect the Once and Future king _or_ Igraine did. She knew the Old Religion well, but rarely practised the skills she’d have used if she hadn’t become Queen, she had easy access to Uther’s blood and hair, enough that if she survived and the birth did not cost _her_ life she could come and very carefully negate this, Morgana would have been raised safely. This _looks_ like premeditated vengeance, self defense really, and the jerky rhythm could be hurt, or anger, or fear. The only other possibility given the slaughter of Morgana’s house and the priestesses is that one understood the prophecies correctly, and this was desperation, the dark witch being hamstrung as it was, and the magic folk protected by Arthur’s ignorance. Whoever it was seems to have expected not to survive… but they didn’t want to _kill_ either, which suggests to me they were compromised emotionally. It requires further deliberation.”

Merlin thought he was beyond being shocked, but he’d really expected the man to look at it and announce he had no idea what it all meant, after having so many _unhelpful_ helpers. Ruling out priestesses had seemed unlikely after so long, but then, Gaius easily recognised Nimue’s work, and every person’s magic had a different _feel_ , he could recognise Oswald’s by now, so perhaps it was the same with an anchored spell.

Merlin was tempted to sit down, feeling wobbly, but that was never a good idea in magical caves, so instead he leaned down and helped Oswald up from the ground, “Ok, wow, that’s a lot. I uh- I _can’t_ tell Arthur that yet. Do you have the sense not to mention it, or do I have to order you as Emrys, Ozzie?” The man shook his head at the ground in wonder, and his lips curled as he bowed his head to Merlin, “You need not order me, but I will obey your wishes anyway. Is there anything else you require before we rest? My apologies but it has been a very long day, and I do not wish to start making careless mistakes. In a place like this there are unseen dangers”

Merlin chuckled, knowing just how true that was, and began to lead him back towards the entrance, very careful this time not to see any mirrors, “No, there’s nothing else. You can sleep. Can you find your way back from the kitchens to Gaius and my mother?”  
“I’m not so tired yet that I can’t manage that.”

They emerged from the vaults and Merlin locked it carefully behind them, laying wards again over the threshold “Then I shall leave you there. My own night is not quite over, and my chambers a different direction.” They moved silently, as two breaking in and out of the highest security room of a castle ought to and split at the agreed place, where Merlin picked up a couple of apples, and a flagon of ale.

 Sneaking into the knights quarters was something he was becoming more accustomed to but still felt just a little dangerous. Lancelot had tended to come to him, rather than Merlin seeking him out openly. He raised his hand to knock on Gwaine’s door, nervous about waking others and being seen, and dropped it as he remembered that his friend was expecting him, and tried the door. As he’d suspected, he’d left it unlocked and it opened without resistance. Merlin growled again at the carelessness and waved a hand at it _“Fyrbendum faest.”_

Clearly Gwaine had succumbed to sleep after a rough few days as his right arm hung off the bed and the rest of him sprawled undignified over the mattress. He must have still been waiting though as Merlin’s low chuckle penetrated and Gwaine looked over hazily, as though trying to make sense of something before the confusion cleared and he smiled sleepily. “You came back.”

Merlin snorted, “I always come back. Can’t get rid of me so easily. Unless you want to after earlier...” Merlin shrugged awkwardly.

Gwaine laughed and moved away from the edge, “Hell no, just not up to dragging my tired arse up to your room so late. Figured you’d get in in the wee hours, but there’s no point in us all being exhausted, and I can’t run on magic. Merlin looked at him gauging whether Gwaine was moving away or making space for him. “I brought peace offering apples, if you were hungry, illicit ones. I’m told they taste better. Do you- I mean…”  
Gwaine rolled his eyes, “Boots off, coat too as it looks uncomfortable and even I can’t give a rubdown through that, and get in the damn bed. Oil’s on the bedside cabinet, chuck it over and I’ll get the worst of the knots, not like my sheets haven’t seen worse.”

Merlin grimaced. “I know, I’m a servant mind.”

“Aye. Still not sorry. Was tonight productive?”

Merlin sighed deeply as he obeyed, “Very, probably too helpful, but at least we know Oswald’s legitimate.”

“Oswald?” Gwaine’s brow wrinkled, too tired to try and work it out,

“Catha warrior number one.” Said Merlin, almost as tired himself.

“Ah. Good. That’s very good news. You gonna keep that shirt on or make it easy for me here?” He raised the vial and Merlin only hesitated for a couple of seconds this time before removing it and collapsing on his front with a deep groan, noticing pain he hadn’t registered until that moment. Gwaine chuckled at the immediate reaction to his hands smoothing the worst away, clumsy as they were from being woken, “You might want to do your soundproofing thing unless you want to answer questions tomorrow mate.”

“Already done.” Mumbled Merlin into the pillow.

“Huh. Prepared. I like it.”

“Not for that you ass.”

“Multiple purposes achieved in one go. Even better.”

Merlin really did try to answer but the incoherent babbling  just made his friend snigger.

“Shut up Merlin, you idiot. Just fucking sleep already.” and Merlin couldn’t fight it anymore, feeling like he’d been traitorously tricked by his alleged friend into doing something that wasn’t completely necessary and he was doing far more of lately that he had in years. Must be evil. Probably. He decided it probably didn’t matter if they kept the nightmares away so well. He’d have to keep them and just deal with any consequences later.

Later. Huh. That was new. Planning. For later. Like it would just _be there_ and he’d still be alive in it. He liked that.

His eyes closed and despite the fact his reality of seeing the mass graves in the morning chased him into his dreams this time, every time he awoke, there was someone there telling him to breathe; or whispering nonsense, or just _present_ , and it worked like nothing else ever had.

Gwaine next to him each time sighed sluggishly and reminded himself why tonight was a bad night, half-conscious each time thinking it was good he wasn’t alone and pacing the room in the cold. He’d found his friend like that before, with a slightly manic look, never asking, and he knew now that Arthur had seen similar behaviours on extended patrols before. Better this way when they knew to expect it.

Morning came too soon for either of them, the pre dawn light almost offensive, and Merlin was seriously tempted to cloud it over a little before he realised there were people now who might actually notice adjustments. Instead he threw and arm over his eyes and tried to burrow deeper into his bedmate, taking several minutes to register ‘bed-mate’ and ‘not my own bed’. Gwaine registered a protest as his source of warmth moved away. “I need fresher clothes for this. Not like the dead will notice, but it feels disrespectful to not at least wash after they’ve been ignored for so long.”

“Is. Is disrpectf’l, should wash f’rst.” grumbled Gwaine, pressing a pillow over his eyes to block the light. “Basin’s in th’corner.” Merlin almost declined, before realising that otherwise he’d have to walk through the halls not only in yesterday’s shirt but smelling like he’d spent the night in a knight’s bed. From that direction. The soap here was nicer anyway, which he told Gwaine but only got a grunt in answer to. The cold water went a good way to waking him up  and Merlin left Gwaine dozing with a quiet smile curling his lips. Feeling a warmth his coat couldn’t account for Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and he left the door safely locked, sure his message would be understood by the man. Making his way to his own chambers felt different, his steps heavier the closer he got, an acute awareness that today was different, in a far darker way to the day before. The dates would be fixed in his mind forever Merlin was sure, as it should be.

If Arthur allowed it, he planned to make this day one of remembrance in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are major mistakes here please notify me. It's been written on a bad epilepsy day! Comments are appreciated.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for losses.  
> So this is basically an entire chapter of angst, sorry about that, but there shall be compensation late.  
> Also still seizurey, so despite checking, there may be mistakes.

Merlin felt a great heaviness of spirit as he put on the tunic with the fewest repairs, he had one from Arthur that was better but it felt inappropriate to wear something given to him personally  by the son of the tyrant responsible for their murders. At least the first time.

Eyeing the storage chest he decided to try folding space in it later. Perhaps experimenting with it would be therapeutic afterwards, he was confident that he had identified the necessary _principle_ anyway.  

As he stood considering that he did not know exactly where Gaius intended to lead him but had his suspicions, Merlin laced the coat properly, pulled on the gauntlets he was still unaccustomed to wearing, and made his way down towards his old home. Being very careful not to disturb anyone who may still be sleeping. Placing his palm against the cool wood of the door Merlin felt some satisfaction at the substantial wards that prickled over his skin. He’d left his own, stronger though less subtle, but Ozzie wouldn’t have a personal link and response to those, so it was reassuring to find he’d set his own. Warily he opened it and crossed the threshold. The one he hadn’t really _met_ yet was awake and on guard, and there were muffled sounds coming from Gaius’ chamber, but no-one speaking. Merlin wondered if the guests knew what his purpose this morning was given the atmosphere seemed almost oppressive. He hoped not.

As the man’s eyes swept over him, appearing to take in details Merlin knew he hadn’t thought of or been aware one could observe; he held out a cup of something warm, with a familiarity of when this was his home. He sniffed and caught the scent of mint, then looked back to the warrior-priest still watching him, “I’ll make my own thanks.” He handed it back to the man, Ozzie might have passed, but no one who hadn’t done a _lot_ of lying to him yet had checked him.

“What’s your name?” Asked Merlin circumspectly, keeping his voice low to avoid waking anyone. He had kept one of them out late, and Gaius could use the rest and slower start, though he suspected that sleep wouldn’t have come easily the previous night to his old mentor. ‘Catha warrior two’ grimaced,"Ah, Waldo said you'd want to know that."

Merlin snorted, "He also said to ignore the nickname."

The older man chuckled as though it was an old joke, "As I'd expect him to. I go by Finian."

"Going by it doesn't make that your name." Merlin's eyebrow rose and crossed his arms over his chest, he had always chosen his words carefully but until recently hadn’t listened _quite_ as carefully to those of others.

"Doesn't it? That is the name given on my last journey, and tracking me will only get you so far, but these hamlets and inns will recognise me by only that name. I've used many though, Emrys. I doubt even my fellow priests are certain of which is the first one given at birth. I might have adopted 'nameless', but that would not serve me well outside the sacred places and seemed pretentious. Now I carry those of people I have known, most of whom now wait upon Avalons white shores, so no disastrous mistakes can be made in tracing the steps of _that_ incarnation back. My skills would be wasted if I remained in one place, stuck at a level without challenge or growth, all for having simple compassion. I do not believe that torture contributes to balance but to chaos. This is not the conviction of the triple goddess, or indeed her counterpart. Even She recognises the need for balance in this world. You also begin to understand. I see it in your eyes… and your resistance."

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, disliking being ‘seen’ when he already felt vulnerable, "You don't make yourself easy to trust, but I will call you Finian for now, if that is your wish."

He smiled in response, fine wrinkles clearer in the dim light than the sun,"Then if it is still your preference to the names we give you, Lord Emrys, I shall call you 'Merlin'. It is not who you are to us, but it is what you have chosen to mean yourself. There are others that do so for much different reasons; we do remain a shelter and we train in all ways to fight, primarily to fulfil the role of protecting those who cannot or will not, for whichever reason. Most of the Catha _do_ exercise great compassion. As with the priestesses, only a few are corrupt or have forgotten, but those few- like the Witch, and Nimue- are not without power, and all possess a wide range of skills. If you are able to we shall talk later, Merlin."

"Yes. Yes we will.” Merlin spoke with certainty, curious about what they might be able to teach him- or explain about his expected role, and speculating as he leant to make his own drink, and waited for Gaius to emerge. Merlin was expected this morning, and among family, but it still made him uncomfortable as he looked around his old home; so many memories, and now so many doubts and changed understandings. Gaius had spoken without any doubt when he told Merlin he wasn’t a monster, offering reassurance but no evidence or reasons. Merlin had never exactly _told_ him about going to speak to the dragon and yet he had clearly known when they needed answers beyond _his_ ken. Then of course there was Sigan, and the sword Excaliber...

The times he had cried here, or that Gaius had thanked, or congratulated him knowing no-one else would flashed through his mind; and still there so easily _could have been_ if only the man had hidden less and done what was right. Someone who _understood_ fully what it was to be a part of the old religion in the core of their being. It stung deeply that he had told _Uther_ about the existence of the last dragonlord before he bothered to tell _Merlin_ about his father being alive, and _easy to find_. Uther who would gladly kill the man, fully intended to, while Merlin had spent his life questioning and wondering, and suffering for not knowing.

At that moment he had no idea _how_ he felt as so many conflicting images and memories flooded him, and then the door of Gaius’ own chamber opened, and it was like being doused with cold water. He had seen many versions of the man before him. Many voices, and he had often been up at or _until_ the dawn broke, frequently with Merlin at his side- or patching him up- but never had Gaius looked so drawn and tired. So _old._ “Welcome my boy,” Merlin didn’t pick him up on the old familiar greeting, still dismayed by Gaius’ apparent fragility, instead clearing his throat and concentrating on setting aside his turmoil, “Good morning Gaius. It’s um- good to see you again.” Mentally cursing his suddenly restricted speech.

Gaius snorted, disbelieving, “How you are still alive is a mystery Merlin, with such terrible skills at basic lying. This morning is many things, but ‘good’ is not one of them, and we both know that your feelings about seeing me do not condense to that either, though I cannot deny you have valid reasons for that. This morning is _necessary_ , and a very dark day indeed. It is also however, long overdue. Something that should have been done long ago, when I first realised who you were. You were young though, happy for the most part, and I did not not wish to burden you- nor in truth to revisit such terrible memories myself.” He sighed sorrowfully, “They deserved better than that. All of them.”

Merlin bit his lip hard, they really had known each other’s habits, become comfortable together. Perhaps, thought Merlin, that wasn’t such a good thing.  
“I do miss _this_. Having company in the morning- seeing you survived the night.” Merlin attempted a weak smile.

Gaius’ eyebrows rose, “From what I hear, early morning company is not something you have been lacking, though the suspected identity of ‘company’ varies depending on who tells it. I understand that there is an element of freedom which comes with having your own space Merlin, but do be _safe,_ please.” The physician looked at him in earnest, and Merlin knew he was more scared of the possible consequences of Merlin being discovered than any physical damage he might incur. Understandable given their morning’s goal. He grimaced at the other implications. Not least because drunks were stupid and he was their physicians assistant in _all_ types of cases. He considered it a mercy none of the round table had turned up with that particular complaint.

“I will be. Are you ready for this?” Merlin looked at his mentor- ex mentor?- As he moved stiffly and held up a hand. “Sit down.” Looking at his student with mild amusement Gaius nevertheless obeyed. “Fin. Get one of the anti-inflammatories out, and please remember a support or compression bandage for later.” The man rose and rifled through the cabinet, handing down a vial that both Merlin and Gaius checked, relieved to find it was the correct one, and Gaius drank it. Neither of them had emotional energy spare today to argue over a meaningless thing. Merlin placed his hands on the old man’s knees and whispered over each “Þurhhæle licsar min.” Frowning as he felt them, the joint still heated and swollen, if slightly improved. “I hope that Oswald will be willing to help me with that aspect of healing, but for now they should pain you a _little_ less. Fin and Oswald can be of more help later, though our time now is short.”

Gaius looked disapprovingly at his ex-ward, as always feeling that using energy and magic on _him_ was wasteful. “You should save your strength Merlin, though I appreciate the attempt to help. Your healing _is_ improving. I just wish it wasn’t the result of exposure to many wounds and being left in dire need. You know what I’ve said about ageing, you have told enough people the same yourself.”  
Merlin nodded, throat aching in spite of his conflicted feelings, “No healer can defeat ageing, nor should they try to do so.” He recited.  
“Well spoken my boy. It is dangerous for any man to believe otherwise. Or to try and defy the ways of nature. No man lives forever.” Merlin looked guiltily away.  
“Most would not wish to if they truly comprehended the meaning.”

“Hmm. Come, let us leave before Hunith rises, she is safe enough here and there are things you must have knowledge of that I would not wish for her to see.”

Merlin nodded stiffly, he understood. His mother had seen enough horrors for life, and most of them were centred around _him,_ he didn’t disagree with Gaius’ choice.

“Are you able to ride out?” Merlin tried not to let his doubt show, only a few years ago it wouldn’t have been a question.  
Gaius smiled sadly, and Merlin saw the pain in the old physician’s eyes. “Yes, but it is not _out_ we must go first. Come Merlin, please, we will go out of the city to other significant sites, but first follow me. The Purge was not and has not been a steady trickle, with a predictable pattern. The Purge as it has been called, occurred in staggering, shocking waves that left us reeling, trying to find out which of our acquaintances had survived without ever mentioning their names.

It happened in stages, with some periods of stability the fooled us into thinking it was over, finished, people would begin to return and then another harsh reaction to any minor incident or disagreement would be implemented. The worst was Arthur’s first five years, _those_ were relentless, merciless, and harsh but even that was punctuated by exceptional events. As all such things are. Follow me. First we go down. Before it was realised that burning saved a separate cremation to dispose of the dead and… well there were different responses. Some worse than others, but terrified or grieving people often make poor choices. The first day you were here resulted in you being thrown in the cells. I was furious, and you were _so stupid_ , but I never really explained further. I believe now you will understand my reaction to your rash actions, so common in youths.”

Merlin followed silently, cold fear a living thing in his gut as he realised where they were going and his body began to shake.”  Things started spinning around him and only stopped as a gnarled hand came to rest on his arm, a point of focus. “Come. You were right. You do need to know. Trying to _protect you_ in practice _hindered you._ ”

Swallowing his revulsion Merlin continued, going slowly as Gaius was so on spiral stairs these days. Merlin saw one guard look straight at him and the blood drain from his face as though he had seen something terrifying. He didn’t stop to question it. The warlock knew his way through these tunnels better than any mere guard.

They took the ancient steps into the cave, so much older and more worn by time and use than the tower ones, descending to the ledge, though they remained standing far back from the edge. Merlin lit the cave, not bothering today with stolen torches. Today was not like that day, when a naive boy had snuck down; it felt like another lifetime.

Gaius spoke softly, as though his words might be dangerous.  “When he took the Dragonlords. Your family. They went first to the dungeons, just above us, and that was bad enough, the people were shocked, it hadn’t been done since the days of Daobeth, but no one outside the castle suspected what was to come. It was the first time Uther used men like Aredian openly, having found out your kind were harder to kill. He did try burning, and it didn’t work, so he told them to find something that did. I was bound by oath, and what I saw then still haunts me.” Looking in open horror at Gaius’ seeing his hunched frame Merlin believed it, seeing tears that had never fallen even after he himself was taken by the false Witchfinder. “After, he had a problem, Dragonlords bodies had always been dealt with by dragonfire, but now there was only one dragon left so…” There Gaius voice broke, and as understanding dawned Merlin sank to his knees without words.

“He brought the bodies to the great dragon.” Merlin shook his head trying to deny the truth of those words. There was no other way into the cavern, only this staircase, the ledge hadn’t led to crypts, and no one would dare to enter here for more than seconds. They’d need magical protection against dragonflame, and suddenly more of what he’d seen from Lachlan and Kilgarrah made sense. “No. No, _he_ did not and we were not given to Kilgarrah’s flame, they were thrown like some _rubbish_ into the chasm. Uther didn’t just keep him chained, imprisoned. He chained him in a _tomb._ What kind of monsters… This city is an abomination. Kilgarrah was right. Uther should have died, and all who helped him do this thing.” Merlin looked at Gaius, the anger burning in his gut reflected in his eyes, and saw true fear from his uncle. Gritting his teeth he reeled it back in what he hoped was enough. “Get out. Go to the top, close the door, and wait for me. There’s something I have to do.”

Gaius obeyed silently, hobbling slightly. As soon as he heard the door shut Merlin screamed. Taking one last look around a place that had meant so much to him, he knew he would never return. Couldn’t. If _he_ couldn’t though, he was going to be damn sure no one else could desecrate what should _never_ have been anyone’s final resting place. Reaching out his arms he felt for the rock, for how much wouldn’t be dangerous, and when it felt right backed up to the top step and _pulled_ collapsing the staircase, ledge, and cavern. Whispering in the language of dragonlords he spoke a long denied blessing for peace and placing a hand on the rock next to him coaxed it to heat and grow over to form a thin wall that would prevent anyone from trying. Walking out he saw Gaius looking at him in terror, and one of the guards upset about his broken chair.  “It is done.” He said simply to Gaius. To the guards staring at him, confused about his appearance he spoke far more calmly, “The door no longer works. It doesn’t need guarding.” Behind them he could see Lachlan, looking as somber as Merlin felt, and he bowed deeply as a man showing respect to his sovereign; which Merlin didn’t feel he was, but the sentiment he understood completely. The rest of today would be those who were innocent victims, which was terrible, but _that_ had been his family. Camelot had literally stood on the bones of his kin. He ran. He did wonder how pissed off Arthur would be, there was no way he hadn’t noticed that given he knew what Merlin was doing this morning, Gaius followed him, still able to follow as blatant a trail as Merlin left, and found him looking lost out at the city. He didn’t say anything, just rested a hand on his arm. Some time later, with the sky thick with grey clouds Merlin spoke, “You said we need to ride out. I’m ready.” It was a lie they both knew, but there was never going to be a day when someone was _ready_ for that. When _either_ of them were. Understanding, Gaius lifted his hand and nodded, and they walked together in silence towards the stables.

Merlin was stunned to find that two horses were saddled and ready, Percival standing easily beside them holding out two waterproof hoods. “How? What?” stammered Merlin.  
“Eileen." Stated his friend quietly, "Seems a bit overcast up there, and I know that you have some messages that can’t wait any longer than they already have. She was worried about you is all she said.” He spoke gently, eyes searching Merlin’s face and apparently finding some answer Merlin was unaware of giving as he nodded kindly, “Be careful out there.”

As he turned to leave he held out a walking stick to Gaius, “You too physician.” Percival didn’t have it in him to be cruel or harsh, but it was rare that he acted as though he didn’t know someone or use their name.

Leaving them together he left and went to get his own wet-weather training gear ready.

“Eileen?” Gaius asked. Merlin sighed, he couldn’t deny that he was still worried about the man,  
“Her grave is somewhere out there too.” Gaius was rather out of practise riding, but they had barely left before he came to stop again bringing his mount around again. Merlin’s eyes widened in disgust. “Gaius,” He growled, “That’s the midden.”

His uncle looked brokenly at it, “When you sweep out the fireplace they are not the only ashes that end up there, you know that. I will write down the names I know who endured such a fate, and you can decide with the Prince what must be done. Follow me, there is much that’s been hidden.”

Gaius didn’t comment on the icy note in the wind, or that whichever way the horses faced they were riding into it. As they rode slightly faster, following the widely used road for a little way before Gaius turns of and began to guide the horse slowly along an overgrown ditch. As he tried to pay closer attention Merlin realised they weren’t in a ditch at all but a track as wide as the one the had left, with many years of growth and reclamation evident, but Gaius continued without any sign of doubt about the way and so Merlin followed, until he could see a river. Usually such a place would bring him a sense of great peace.  
It was beautiful, the reeds hiding waterbirds, brambles growing haphazardly along the banks on the other side, willow branches trailing in the water a little further up, and then Merlin noticed the quiet. This was not the quiet of a secluded place, the peace of a sanctuary.

It was the quiet of the gloomy caves he hid in as a child, trying not to breathe, searching eyes making his neck prickle. The unnatural stillness of a mausoleum.

He dismounted, trying not to crush the bold living things that dared to grow in such a place. Watched Gaius get down stiffly, coming to stand next to him, noticing the nervous way the horses ears twitched as though sensing a threat. Merlin knew how they felt, there was a profound _wrongness_ in this place.  
“What happened here Gaius?” He pitched his voice low, to avoid disturbing anything and the man leaned heavily on the stick he rarely used, preferring to declare he wasn’t old and didn’t need it.

Gaius seemed to be weary in a way that Merlin knew couldn’t be healed by resting as he began,

“The same thing that happened in many places after, but it happened here first. A group of peaceful people had gathered, intending to leave together many had magic, some didn’t. Like non magic users, in times of upheaval you get the opportunists, petty criminals, those who seek revenge, or react out of fear. People divide against one another, _turn_ against each other, begin to suspect without cause. This was a main road, and a way out of Camelot, it once ran straight on to Dyffed, and then some woman was robbed and hurt a few days before they intended to leave, not badly, but visibly.

When the group were all gathered together, a meal I think, someone else made an accusation, and an already agitated mob attacked them. It didn’t take much, only a spark. When the knights got here a few tried to break it up, as they would have done before, but most followed the new orders, they supported the mob. I was there that day to treat what I could, a few people were just travelling and tried to stop it. We were too late.” There was no emotion in Gaius voice as he recounted it, “It was a massacre. There were children, and some women were trying to get them across the bridge to escape, on the other side there’s a marsh and the horses wouldn’t go into it, so they thought it would be safe.”  
Gaius eyes closed as he swallowed, “So they brought down the bridge. Those left couldn’t save them. I don’t know exactly who died here; but I knew every child who went into the river that day.”

“How many?” Growled Merlin, fighting against the urge to vomit.

“Twelve that day, the older ones were weighed down by carrying younger siblings and trying to keep hold... After that… I don’t know. It was _news_ then, and so the spot became known. Some mothers left my rooms weeping after coming for a ‘treatment’ for their child’s newly developed ‘affliction’ that did not exist. This was a place that the youngest I knew of was ‘given mercy’. It is beautiful to look at, and a fast way. No one comes here for any reason now except one. This is the uneasy truth of Camelot, where things are collectively known and concealed by those old enough to recall them, and the younger protected by abuse.”

Merlin looked around him, feeling the grief of the land and shook his head, fingers sinking into the damp earth. “No, Gaius. This is an abomination.”

Looking up to the edge of the trees behind them and over to the drooping limbs of the willow Merlin removed the neckerchief that kept him ever inconspicuous and began tearing it into long strips. Thirteen for each child Gaius named, and a fourteenth for those he couldn’t. It made him glad that he intentionally had one big enough to use as a sling when unrolled. With an outward calm he didn’t feel he began to walk to each tree to tie the bright red rag on as a marker, speaking a prayer with each until only half the strips remained. Looking over and wishing there was an easier way Merlin stripped to his breeches and waded through the polluted water to do the same on the opposite side as he tied them and spoke in the old tongue, the unnatural quiet began to change  and by the time he finished managed almost a respectful hush. Returning to his uncle he found the old man crying. “No longer. No one comes here again unless it’s to remember them. I _am_ Emrys, and this place is sacred. It is no longer a place of anger and pain. It must remain a place of death until it is restored, but now it becomes a sacred glade for healing and remembrance. You, Gaius, for your part in the genocide of my kin must not come here, until such time as the Old religion will recognise you. For your own safety. You will know when the Old Religion accepts you back. _If_ it accepts you back. Until then this shrine will regard you as a trespasser, we need to leave. Now.”

Neither remounted as the left, instead walking as lightly as possible along a path long forgotten, Gaius tortured by memories, and Merlin turning over in his mind that he had just _voluntarily_ claimed his name, having found himself frequently reluctant or afraid. Perhaps if it meant defending the helpless that wasn’t a bad thing… Perhaps his friends were right about his defining it.  
It was a full fifteen minutes before Merlin could acknowledge his uncle. “Thank you Gaius. I hate this. It’s- it’s horrific, the whole thing makes me feel sick, with grief and rage and… but I know it’s still not easy for you to go back to these places.”

Gaius answered him softly, “Perhaps not. It is long passed time that my own past caught up with me though, and those less fortunate than the few survivors were honoured once again.”

 Distressed, Merlin frowned, “Sometimes what first appears as good fortune or blessing can later seem like a curse. Morgana lived; and it drove her mad. Morgause lived, and her life turned her into a weapon. Balinor survived, but to what end? He lived rough, spent twenty years isolated and alone, believing his love had forgotten him, with the echoing emptiness in his own mind. You lived...and lost every friend, your magic, your religion, your kin. Everyone you ever had. You had to have known it was a matter of time until he betrayed you, and he did take you to the pyre. Teaching me to live in constant fear? It was all you  _could_ do, what you lived for years; you forgot another way, and were alone. Mum’s gonna stay for a while. It will help with that, among other more practical things, and soon it won’t matter if they find out, neither of you are accountable under the new laws. I never knew anything else but secrecy and hiding, I don’t want to hide forever, and I need someone who _isn’t_ pretending to show me how to _live_ as _me_. How to stop hiding the magic, and how to stop hiding myself. They’re different things, but goddess, I’m going to be here a _long_ time Gaius, and I don’t want to spend it all hidden in the dark and lying.” His hand went to his throat and he pushed back the memories.

Gaius’ eyes followed plainly and he shivered, “You’re not hiding them.” He didn’t have to clarify.

The warlock’s brows met, as the skies darkened a little more, “For this? No. Why would I for this? What happened then still happens now. No man should have to live ashamed because of the actions of a few people full of hate. Just because I was cut down doesn’t diminish the fact that I shared their suffering, and my family as a result of harbouring me. Or that every day I survive is a small victory. I will not stand at the grave sides of those who had no one to save them and hide my own scars of the hatred Uther fathered. I _lived_ Gaius, and I owe it to _them,_ the hundreds that didn’t _,_ to stop helping continue the invisibility of what horrors he and his followers created.

I know they bother you, and I understand why.  I’m not ready to lose the neckie, not least because it’s very practical, but I won’t _hide_ the evidence compulsively or keep it on in _all_ weathers anymore, it’s time for the truth.” He spoke honestly, it was the most candid he’d ever been about the rope marks, or ever would be with his uncle.

He paused and swallowed dryly, centring himself again,  “Take me to the next one Gaius.” He looked over at the man who he had such conflicting emotions about. “Please Gaius.”

The old man awkwardly climbed up on his placid beast  “The barren valley.” He said grimly. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to do more than that today. Or if we _should_ try to _._ There were- and still are- so many small confrontations and attacks, many ‘unconfirmed’, more that _are_ certain but,” The old man sighed, sounding anguished, “There were some, _I_ needed to show you, too significant, and history will mar them. Twist them.” They went slowly, allowing the horses to find their own route, and Merlin began to get agitated. “Gaius, I don’t know this land. Arthur has dragged me all over this kingdom in every weather, and back, we looked _everywhere_ for Morgana that year, I’ve studied the maps, and I _don’t know_ this place.”

“You wouldn’t my boy, it isn’t _on_ the maps. Not in truth. You think they would be willing to alter the bloodlines, histories, and lore, but leave the maps intact? No. We are close now. It is called ‘barren’ but they may as well call it the dead valley. No one comes here anymore. Even those that remember it… especially those who remember it, and those who do laid protections to turn others from it.” Merlin felt a shiver of dread spike through him at the heartache he heard in Gaius voice, and finally the glen came into view.

Like many others it took his breath away, but for all the wrong reasons; it had never before been like this. Merlin slid from the saddle without thought or intent. From one end to the other there was nothing living. No sound, nothing green and growing, not even moss on the damp rocks when he reached out his awareness, it was empty and utterly devoid of life in a way no normal attack could achieve. Whatever had happened there, he knew the darkest magic had done this and Merlin sank to the ground and _screamed._ Rage and pain, and a sense of loss he couldn’t quite account for echoed through the minds of his people like a shockwave as the sky rumbled and the clouds that had been threatening rain all day burst. Wrapped in the horror of the truth one young warlock barely noticed as hail stung his skin. Gaius knelt carefully next to him, stick by his side on the ground.  
“What happened Gaius.” He whispered, voice hoarse, “What in the name of all Albion happened here?”

Giaus met his eyes and Merlin wished he hadn’t, the wretchedness and utterly desolate look in them perfectly matching the valley below. “The death of hope Merlin. Hope died _here._ This wasn’t a different kingdom, but it _was_ … different. Druids aren’t the only people to use magic Merlin, and this valley was a haven, a gathering place for those with magic. Prior to his imprisonment it was home to Kilgarrah and his mate. Thousands passed through this way, the markets were a place you could get anything, but there was a clan that remained here all year round, made their home in it permanently. It was a beautiful place, full of life, and they fed that. All creatures that were not of darkness were welcomed, and it was mutually beneficial, but when people began to flee Camelot, it was an obvious place to run. Uther knew many had family here, it was a place one could study many types of magic, and only had a small number of true warriors. With resident dragons and restricted entrance, what need was there for significant human defences?”

“No” breathed Merlin.

“They-” Gaius took a deep breath, pallor like chalk, “The king sent his most loyal men, and the most effective. They drugged the guards and came quietly in the night. No one escaped. When they were sure no one was left they poisoned the land so that the refuge perished, intending that the symbol itself would wither and die too. Like the perilous lands in some ways, but this was done intentionally, purposefully, and by acts of the darkest desecration. I wasn’t here. I came out once, against orders, and knew it was far too big for me even then. _This_ place of dust and ashes was my confirmation that Morgana was a Seer. As a child, she Saw _this._ After the event certainly, but she could never have been out here herself.”

Gazing out at the cracked ground and dried, withered remains of once great trees, the very air seemed to carry sickness, Merlin stepped hesitantly further into the silent monument, leaving his horse at the line it couldn’t seem to cross. Gaius followed, knowing then that if Merlin held him accountable for this he wouldn’t fight any punishment or consequence. Scanning the scene before him, unable to look away Merlin spoke, his usually confident voice shaking with suppressed sobs.

“I forgive you. This… I forgive you for not telling me, or placing this on Arthur’s conscience. You’re right. Someone who could do this has lost any sense of limits. All grip on what is sane.  What you did, and staying by him was not ok, it’s chilling, sickening, but if the other choices were men like Aredian, or who would encourage _this…”_  Merlin swallowed back his nausea, “What was done, more than the genocide Gaius.”

His old guardian looked as though he might shatter any minute, “I don’t know everything, the woods that grew below us though sheltered unicorns, to spill their blood in malice would be grave indeed. The king by then possessed the blood of dragons, and many relics. There is great power in the lifeblood of creatures of magic. Taken unwilling or stolen it may be used to dark purposes. As it was the Great dragon’s eyrie, I’ve enough suspicions of who he would abuse so. Not even creatures of darkness dare come here.”

Merlin looked to where a healthy river should flow and instead a bare trickle existed and had a flash of insight. “Power in the blood. Bloodlines. Kilgarrah’s home.” He murmured to himself.  
"Like you taught me Gaius, what source do they share. It’s the water. They poisoned the water, the springs, the head-water, and every living thing left drank from the same sources. As they died, it would spread through anything remaining, poisoning the ground further. Like Nimue’s plague. This is her inspiration.”

He closed his eyes tightly and looked to Gaius cautiously. “Dark magic from blood taken by force. What about lifeblood offered willingly, as an offering, or a sacrifice. Many still take tools and precious things to shrines and sacred places.”

Gaius shook his head in horror, “No Merlin, _no!”_

“TELL ME!” Merlin almost roared, the dragon in him rising as he looked around a place that that part of his soul vaguely recognised.

“It is an act that carries great power, but without any dark ritual or casting, no, I cannot conceive of a way it could be twisted, but Merlin, I am begging you, _don’t do this_.”

Merlin looked at him somberly, “When has that ever stopped me? If you have another way then please, use it, but I can’t think of one. If only magic can defeat magic, well, it’s the one thing I’ve an abundance of.” The point where the head water ought to have been was easy to find, but was almost unrecognisable as such. Merlin took out his clean knife, glad it had been replaced, and drew it across his palm, deep enough to bleed freely, but not placed so as to be dangerous. He began to widen the gap from which the water flowed, taking the surrounding blackened ground back to bare rock and stone. Freeing the way he held his hand in the water as though washing it, and as he did so began to sing one of the songs of the goddess he had learned during his rare visits to the druids. No spells, definitely no spells here, but with weeping a call to the spirits who once guarded and cared for this land to return to it again. A message, he dared hope; he spoke words of blessing, which he probably shouldn’t since he wasn’t a priest, but hopefully the not-humans would forgive him that technicality. When the water finally began to run clearer the sun had definitely moved, and so did he, knees aching, half convinced that a woman he should recognise sat where he had been, tending the stream. This time he was more sure of where to go towards the next place, having realised when he looked at the lay of the land without being distracted by the brokenness, why _this_ valley was chosen to settle in. Three head waters that ran together into one river. He did the same at the second, and at the third, each time cutting a new slice across his palm, each time gaining the same result. Like in Camelot he was sure it was not fully restored but it _was_ a beginning, and what flowed now, if he was right, would be fresh and nourishing. The blood and tears of Emrys were willingly offered to cleanse the place from dark and twisted magic, and the goddess seemed pleased. _If_ it wasn’t just his imagination. He returned to where Gaius was sat- well, where Merlin had told him to wait having seen the state of the physician’s joints earlier. He was angry, not _cruel_.

Not ready to explain, or even entirely sure how to, Merlin helped him up, taking a long drink from their water bags and offering it to Gaius, who accepted gladly. “Is there more that must be done today, or can we go.” The physician’s question was sincere enough to warrant an answer, but Merlin still frowned darkly. “There is _one_ thing. What happened to the bodies?”

Gaius surveyed the land, “They were left. Either where the fell, or piled, I do not know.”  
Merlin closed his eyes and breathed deeply, “Then you know what must be done. What I _have to do._ Where was the settlement?” Gaius pointed upwards. “On the hill. Uther’s men attacked at night for good reason, they may be ancient, but a series of earth walls and ditches made it a difficult place to attack. The biggest weakness being that it isn’t easy to run from quickly either should an enemy succeed in breaking through. I think this one had wooden structures within; and there was a second settlement further down that lived by the river, coming up only really for markets or when it flooded.” Merlin shuddered in revulsion. “In that case It’s likely those at the top are in the ditches, so I’ll go where there is the best chance of finding something.” Merlin found he could breathe a little easier when he saw the horses of Camelot take their first tentative steps into the valley. “Oh thank the gods, it’s- well it’s something.” He laid a hand against Trixie calmly, “Good girl, my good, brave girl, you have more than  _earned_ some apples when we are home so you have.” She snorted as if that was obvious.

“Stay with Gaius, I have something that has to be done first."

Taking a winding path that seemed to have oddly placed rocks that once might have been steps Merlin reached the top. It allowed him to finally see the full effect on the landscape; ignoring the tears he couldn’t seem to stop as was usually so easy. enter in the structure he knew what he saw was going to haunt him. The bodies were there, as he’s anticipated, in the ditch, and the time that had passed was clear, but so was the violence with which they had died, some must have been awake and terrified when they died by the injuries from behind them, bloody Gaius and his anatomy lessons. Now he had to actually _understand_ what various injuries meant. He finally lost control of his stomach when he registered the size of one tiny body, that couldn’t possibly have been three years yet. His immediate thought for dealing with them was to bring down the massive earth wall, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the home they had loved. Instead steeling himself he picked up each of the remains and carried them carefully up to the front of the enclosure laying them out with respect where they would have been able to look down towards the valley below when it was green and lush. He didn’t count the skulls, he couldn’t, it was just ‘many’. Too many. More than the one small child. They’d been families he was sure. Had there been a story that last night? Had they fought? Made love? Did they know anyone cared? Gaius made it sound as though they didn’t expect an attack, it was just another night to them, until suddenly it wasn’t.

Merlin looked numbly at the laid out remains for a long time, or so he concluded as he felt a familiar presence behind him. As ambivalent as he was, it was oddly comforting,  “I don’t know what to do Gaius. I couldn’t pull down the walls and they had just been thrown in chaotically, no care or respect, nothing, not even an acknowledgement of existence given to those on the bloody midden by Camelot’s walls. There’s no wood for a funeral pyre. There are no rocks for a cairn. Only death.”

Looking at his desolate ward Gais laid a hand gently on his ward’s arm. “The clan settled near dragons, their custom was to cremate the dead. This is more dignity than they were given before. Or we could return with fuel.”

A voice beside him spoke firmly. “Or you could allow us to help My Lord.”  
Shock ripped through him, “ _Shona?”_  

“Lord Emrys, not _everyone_ died that day, there was one disobedient little girl, whose mother set out to find her- always disappearing she was, though I can’t say now as I’ve any regrets about that, it saved her, and me with her. Our home was gone of course. I’m glad she isn’t here today to see what became of it, but a few men of the druid clan I’m staying with are. They felt it the call too, and were close. The littlest there are twins, Winnie and Culann. The black bead necklace is Beatha’s, and my brother Bryant has the ring.” Her voice was thick with emotion but clear,  “The others I can't tell. It is not custom to burn more than one together, but he was a practical man and would tell you to get on with it. They've waited long enough for rest. They brought wood and oil, and Lord Emrys, you are plenty capable of summoning more." She smiled gently, "As you would have remembered had you not just completed such a gruelling task. He would be honoured to have you help with the ritual. I can do the parts you don't know… come child. Drink this, eat the bread, and you will think more clearly." It was bizarre to have someone who should by all rights be more traumatised by it than he was taking care of him. She must have seen his confusion as she placed a palm against his cheek. "Lord- no, _Merlin_ , I have known all of these things for years. I was here when they happened. That is a long time to come to terms with something. I still couldn't have done this thing."  
She indicated the bodies that Druids were laying oil soaked wood around. "Thank you. Whatever you did, it feels like there may be life here once again.”

“I hope so.”

“I do not believe you need to rely on hope alone My Lord. Whatever you did, someone is pleased enough to provide us with sage and grass, however dry it is, through the pyre.” She gestured.” You did something right Merlin...and now my family can rest. I will follow my daughter north at last. It has been a privilege, Lord Emrys. When I leave, this land will pass to you. Do with it what you will. My people end with me."

Merlin did as he was told. Eating, and ‘sourcing’ what was needed to complete their task. The woman’s unexpected arrival may have completely thrown him, but she was sensible, calm, and hadn’t mocked him for forgetting such a simple thing in the mental haze. _That_ he appreciated. Arthur might not have been so restrained.  
It had been stupid he now realised to think he could catch up on over twenty years of witch hunting in a day. Even knowing the brutality of witchfinders, public burning; frequently finding their own home ransacked and belongings damaged or destroyed. Seeing girls being brought in in cages, cuffs, and Morgana pinned by the throat, he could never have been prepared for the height of The Purge. Not while avoiding it. Having been raised in a different kingdom, in the least noticeable place Hunith could find, it was hardly surprising.

Gaius said that Morgana _Saw_ the valley, but had the witch ever seen these places for real? Morgause had had her a long time. If it had been someone like _her_ to show _him_ these things, would he have done the same as Morgana? That he didn’t have a quick answer troubled him deeply. As rash as the witch had been, she had always had compassion on those who were afraid, had protected when she could. She had trusted Arthur before, and something stopped her. Perhaps the risk just became too big when she saw what he was a small part of. It had never really made sense to Merlin that she stopped trusting _Arthur_ after Merlin poisoned her, rather than simply telling the prince and being done with it. He wasn’t important to her by then, she had perfectly valid reasons to want him executed, even _he_ recognised that; unless she was being kind for Gwen’s sake.

He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts.

He wasn’t like that.

Not _dark,_ or trying to heal the land would have failed, made it sicker. Was _dark_ really the same as _evil_ though. Was there ever a way to use darkness for good, or alongside light? Should they seek to destroy all darkness, or was light supposed to keep it in check, in the right amount, like night and day, summer and winter? Merlin knew how some others felt about it, but not how _he_ did anymore, and he really badly needed some counsel that wasn’t Gaius- with his guilt and denial issues; or Kilgarrah with his vengeance streak and obsession with destiny. _Or Arthur_ who knew virtually nothing about most of these things.

Obviously the witch _was_ using it for evil purposes, and they couldn’t allow that to spread or to continue. The hate to his love though? Was it foreshadowing, warning, sentencing or simple description in the Prophecies? Hel he hated what had been done _here_ , and to love it would be wrong, would make him _Uther._

She hated Arthur, whom Merlin loved. Hated Gaius, before Merlin was conflicted about him. The _Lady_ Morgana had loved swords, when all Merlin could see of them was yet another way for men to kill and cause pain to others. All of those were simple facts. Ways they were opposed. Merlin sighed, careworn and dispirited. Ignorance was so much easier than having knowledge to try and judge such weighty matters.  

Gaius watched from the side, not trying to intervene, and rather afraid of what it might do if he did, until the woman, slightly younger than himself brought over a drink. “I know why you stay back… but you did not do this. Emrys is not the only one with a destiny, and those around them often stumble into their own without ever realising it. However big or small a part we play in the great battle and keeping the balance. My brother would want you to stay back and take responsibility for your own part. His wife would wish to include and forgive you.” She chuckled, “They brought balance to our home. So on their behalf I thank you for staying back and not interfering, and I forgive you for failing to save so many of us. Bringing Emrys here took courage I believe. Do not give up hope of seeing Avalon just yet old man. You may still be granted the chance to redeem yourself.”  

With several of them working together it didn’t take long to finish building the pyre, and Merlin stood by the old woman who guided him through the parts that were unfamiliar to him. A worn hand slipped into his and he raised his hand and spoke clearly the words he’d hoped never to say again “sæbát bælfýr mæst”, setting the frame alight and spreading rapidly. As the flames consumed what little was left of those who had lived here the small group watched, and Shona told them stories of what they had been like in life. Anecdotes, and the habits they had, where people met, and the times they got into trouble with spouses for something minor; someone’s failed attempt to train an owl who’s mother finally convinced them to adopt a specific chicken instead. It was with great reluctance that Merlin realised he could not stay until the fire fully died, but before departing he paused to ask something of the old woman, who smiled almost indulgently at him and nodded. It allowed him to leave without feeling that he was abandoning her cruelly, despite knowing her younger companions would remain until the ashes cooled. He would have to return anyway to deal with the lower settlement, but if there truly was healing in the land, he would have a place for his counsel to meet while Camelot was not possible.

 They had long left the valley before either Gaius or Merlin spoke.  “I have not forgotten our agreement Merlin, but I believe today was...too much. For anyone. Even ‘Emrys’. We are both human and have limits.”

“I need to speak to Arthur. I need to think Gaius.” Merlin’s eyes didn’t stray from the road, and Gaius sighed, wondering if taking secrets to his grave might not have been the best decision after all.

“I can hear you thinking Gaius. I need you to be honest, leaving things screwed up like that won’t allow them to heal and it is dangerous. Easier for you doesn’t mean safe for others. I’m not about to turn on you, or anyone else.” He rolled his eyes, voice heavy sarcasm. “We only _have_ one physician anyway, and I don’t have time to train someone else, but that’s not news to you. Tonight someone else needs to do rounds, I think I should avoid the castle itself as much as I can for a bit. Well, as much as I can without being suspicious and creepy.”

The old man nodded and spoke gruffly, “I’ll ask Hunith or one of her guards, she seems to have them in line quite nicely.”

“Ask Oswald. He checks out and I don’t want mum around that rabble right now. I don’t trust some of Uther’s counsellors, definitely not with mum, and if they recognise her or realise the connections… it may go poorly for all of us.”

Gaius glanced at Merlin, tension and anger showing in every line. “You did well today Merlin, I didn’t mean for… I didn’t _expect_ what happened. I am proud of you, as would your father be.”

Merlin swallowed hard. “A warning next time would not go amiss Gaius. Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry my boy, it has been so long that I sometimes forget such things, but I’ll do my best… before you go anywhere do get changed though, our clothes tell quite the story, and I do not believe either of us wish to answer questions about that.” Merlin grunted, loathe to agree with the old man, but knowing he was correct. “Please.”

As it happened the sun had long set by the time they reach home, and Hunith had already done the rounds. Merlin requested that Arthur be taken a sleeping draught by Oswald and went straight to his quarters, stripping everything and burning the shirt to ashes instantly; answering the door with fury in his eyes when someone knocked, interrupting him. He sagged when even Gwaine took a step back holding his hands up “I can leave. If you need to be alone mate, I can leave.” Merlin jerked his head in acceptance, he had no idea _what_ he wanted. “Come in. Just… don’t say anything, alright?”

“I can do that. Just thought you should have the _option_ of not being alone tonight.”  He stepped into the room, into _Merlin’s space,_ closed the door, and held out some soap with a strong, distinctive scent. “Gwaine this is _expensive.”_ Physicians had cause to use and recognise many foreign substances, and this definitely was.

Gwaine shrugged, “It’s unusual, non-native so you won’t get random throwbacks on patrol, and it’s one I don’t use so the memory won’t link, but it’ll cover up fucking anything.”

Merlin stared blankly at him and took the washbag numbly, not sure quite what to say, looking down at himself, and the charred mess on the floor. “What? But I haven’t seen anyone.” No one could have told him surely.

“Nooo, but there was the quake, and I knew what your business was earlier, and I know _you.”_ Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t appreciate the visuals,” and he smiled cheekily, “but I’m gonna go sit in the corner, and let you figure out what you _need._ Don’t accidentally fry me or I’ll haunt your ass for eternity.”  Gwaine matched his actions to words. Merlin couldn’t quite explain it, but however terrible the things he’d learned and seen today were, having dreadful smelling soap shoved at him and a silent lump on his bed helped him rein in his natural responses and fury.

He didn’t think he’d ever scrubbed so thoroughly in his life. Not even after Will’s pyre. He heated the water to almost scalding and tried to scour away the river they’d seen, and the tear tracks and cut knuckles from his family’s tomb, and every trace of the valley of death.

If he was right _that_ at least was healing. He would check later.  When he finally gave up on getting any cleaner he pulled on breeches and sat down heavily next to Gwaine, feeling older and more worn than anyone so young had any business being.

“There are a great many things Gwaine… so many secrets, so much pain…” His friend placed a silent hand on his shoulder, and Merlin took a deep breath. “There is only one place I know that can offer any solace for this day. I do not know if you can walk there, but if you’re willing to go as far as She will allow, I’d appreciate the company.” Gwaine’s fingers tightened. “As far as you want. When do we leave?”

Merlin looked down at himself and grimaced, “As soon as I find a wearable shirt.”

“Figures. So where are we going then?”

Merlin through him a look over his shoulder and managed to pull up a smirk, “To the Lake of Avalon of course.”

Gwaine heart thumped hard in his chest but the rest of him he was grateful, cooperated, and displayed some degree of nonchalance. “Well of course, where else?” he replied, shaking his head in wonder when Merlin bent to do his laces. It sounded like a place he really wasn’t meant to go, but that did make it _so much more_ tempting to try. “I take it you don’t plan on walking there tonight.”

“Not this time, but Kilgarrah knows the way. There’s something I really need to tell him anyway.”

Merlin locked the door as he left, and walked in step with his friend from the castle.

Watching from his window as they strode out of the city gates, Arthur forced himself to admit that this once, he might, _just maybe_ , be _worried_ about his manservant.  
Possibly even _concerned_ about Merlin’s well being for more than just his efficiency’s sake, because it was in fact _normal_ and even advised to worry about one’s _friend_ during stressful times. He’d done a great deal of admin that day, and reading, largely because of the unseasonable weather, and that did not seem to Arthur like a particularly encouraging sign.


	46. Chapter 46

“Bloody hell mate, I’m getting way too soft and used to prancing about on horses if this seems like it takes a while to get to on foot.”

Merlin chuckled joylessly, “I warned you, but nooo, _you_ weren’t going to go soft.” He poked the man in the side.

“Oi! Big talk from the man who flies by dragon. If I trip I’m taking you down with me.” Gwaine retorted.

Most of the walk was quiet as they waited to be far enough from the castle to feel safe, Well, _safer,_ he wasn’t legal _yet._

Noting the growing tension and agitation of his friend, Gwaine asked carefully, “What prompted the quake this morning? I’m assuming that was you anyway, and brief as it was you had even me worried for a moment.”

Merlin’s hands balled into fists and Gwaine laid his lightly over one and didn’t pursue it, “Ok, not far now, if I recognise my landmarks, I know that tree.”

Merlin shook his head angrily, shaking with suppressed rage and grief, and ran hands through his hair, determinedly uncurling them. “Argh, it’s not- I didn’t, I _knew_ what today would be on an intellectual level, I just didn’t _know._ Ugh, no, I didn’t _understand._ I’m angry at _them_ and I‘m angry at _myself._ For actions, inactions, my responses. That thing before we left Camelot, Gwaine... he showed me where the dragonlords were thrown, except Dad. Into a _pit. Dark, underground,_ wrong. It wasn’t even just that though, it was that he chained up Kilgarrah in the same dark cavern, in a tomb, with the bodies of his kindred. They left him alive in a crypt for twenty years and I didn’t know, didn’t realise, and every time I went down there he was- and I should have… I threatened to leave him there forever. Declared that _I would_ and he’d never be free, and I meant it too. No wonder the Old religion was pissed… I didn’t take the revelation well.” Merlin looked away.

Gwaine nodded slowly, “Yeah. I got that. Are we still safe?” he asked, trying not to push at the sore spots, but leaving Merlin to lead. His friend grunted an affirmative. “You’re safe. Most of you anyway. I uh-I collapsed the cavern under the castle. It’s been there for millennia, used by dragons and dragonlords long before there was a castle. I probably shouldn’t have done that, at least not without asking first, but there’s only me and ‘Garrah left now. He is _never_ going back there, I can’t either now, knowing what I know, and no one else has the right to. It was a place specific to dragons and the dragonlords for a reason, which probably means hazardous for others; it wasn’t a place that anyone should’ve gone alone to. Even if it _wasn’t_ their final resting place, there was magic in the rock and foundations. I- it’s inaccessible now, and holds quite an impressive cairn… it’s the biggest I’ve seen... and the tunnel has a new wall.”

Gwaine gave a low whistle, “Remind me not to use you for a decorator, that’s some pretty radical landscaping to be doing without getting planning permission. I’m proud of you though. Camelot is still standing in spite of everything, everyone survived the day, and your people finally have the peace they deserve.” He paused, watching the man just ahead of him and coming to a decision, “You were gone a long time today Merlin. I know that particular stench. When you are ready to talk, or when you want to sit in silence with another, I’m here. Others if you prefer, who care.”

Merlin ran his hands through his sweat damp hair throat aching and stopping abruptly as they passed into Kilgarrah’s clearing, oddly his threat felt _better_ when he roared at the heavens to summon Kilgarrah to them, and he could feel something tightly wound in his chest loosen.

“Yeah. I think _here,_ everyone does. It’s not something you forget; and I’ll keep it in mind. Today was a bit overwhelming even for me, and I’ve had some pretty shocking days Gwaine. There was a time I figured that the whole ‘The dragon in the cellar knows your name’ or ‘You’re Emrys’ thing was a huge thing, and then there was the ‘By the way, you’re also a Dragonlord’, and the first execution I had to watch, you know I’ve had some _really shitty_ days. Today kind of outstrips Aredian’s company, and being lynched on unpleasantness factor alone so yeah. I need to organise my own thoughts first before trying to explain to anyone else-” Merlin’s brain belatedly caught up with his mouth, “Shit, sorry. Yeah, live every day like it’s the last ‘cause it might be thing is a totally reasonable for some of us. Don’t be weird about it.”

Shrugging Gwaine answered, “Wasn’t going to be. I kind of figured...  One day there’ll be a job that pays properly for folk to do that; help make sense of messed up thoughts and fucked up days, gods know they’d make a fortune in Camelot. Gap in the market that, but knights probably shouldn’t be the ones to do it.”

Merlin snorted, mock- horrified, “Hel no, but you’d do a better job than the witch, or anyone who hands out riddles and calls them answers. Not _you,_ never _you_ , I mean you’d just try and prescribe them stupid amounts of ale and sex, and my workload would double with treating alcohol poisoning, morning after sickness and- well, morning sickness. I don’t need more _work_ in my life.”

Gwaine smiled at getting some response from the man. “I’d best just stick to one or two then. Probably easiest if they’re the ones you’re already meant to keep alive really… How much do you reckon I should charge. Like, one mug of ale per session? A gold coin for more?”

Merlin folded his arms, “I guess it depends how good you are. I’d be expecting a bloody _amazing_ service for a full gold coin. Hadn’t even _seen_ one of those before I came to the city.”

Gwaine grinned, “AH! No, you see I have a theory, I’ve been around a bit, seen a fair few things in the five kingdoms and beyond, and it’s a curious thing with gold. It turns out Merlin, that the more you have of it, the worse a person you become. Less happy, more of a dick, fewer honest friends. So you see, as long as a person had enough to see them, fed, warm, and dry, I’d be _protecting them_ by taking that extra gold on my way.” Gwaine winked, in case Merlin’s mind was in too much turmoil to notice automatically he wasn’t serious, glad that when he didn’t hesitate. “Maybe, but I couldn’t possibly risk you becoming as much of a Prat as Prince Arthur was. Nope. Just too risky Gwaine, you’ll have to stay poor and desperately begging our favour instead.”

The knight sighed dramatically, “Darn, you saw through my nefarious plans.”

Merlin looked sidelong at the knight with one eyebrow raised, “Nefarious? Really Gwaine?”  
“Shameful?”   
“You have no shame.” but Merlin smiled affectionately.

“No flies on you mate. Fine. Poor and remaining a decent human it is, you happy? Spoiling all my dreams of ruby encrusted wine goblets and- and-”

Merlin nudged him, “Shut up Gwaine.” He brushed their knuckles together, still rather hesitant about non-violent contact. “And thank you.”

Kilgarrah landed before them and made no comment, though given he had a mental link to Merlin, Gwaine suspected there was little need for any. Merlin stepped towards the great dragon silently and placed his forehead against Kilgarrah’s huge one the knight stayed back as words not meant for him were exchanged. After hearing what he was sure was a fraction of it, Gwaine wondered why the Great dragon hadn’t razed Camelot. He’d seen the damage, and the death toll, which were terrible, but as ancient as Kilgarrah was, as _massive_ a creature, he could have done _far_ worse, with less effort. Which as far as Gwaine could conclude meant he hadn’t actually _intended_ to destroy Camelot and its inhabitants. He wanted something specific. The younger ones in the city though had no idea that dragons were self aware, or intelligent, let alone could speak or grieve.

Merlin had mentioned the dragonlords when he explained collapsing the cavern, but not the dragons, and Gwaine wasn’t sure how long it might be before he wondered about that; he’d considered it himself, and any answer was grim. That was for another time though, and was _not_ why they were out tonight.

Merlin listened to the steady hum of Kilgarrah’s mind against his own, and let the potent, pure magic surround him, soothing and _good_ , and so wonderfully different to anything he had contact with today. It washed away the pain and poison in a way that no bath ever could, not matter _what_ one used. “Thank you old friend. I am sorry it took me so long.”

Kilgarrah nudged his Lord and smiled toothily, “No, we were too early, you are ready to accept it now, already _have_ accepted who you are, the difference is rather easy to see- to Us at least. You are returning magic to the land indeed. Perhaps your healing skills are simply designed better for non humans.

I felt it earlier, the prison, and the abomination, we all felt _that._ It _will_ heal Merlin, you saw it begin, and what was once my home passes to you; things are waking up now, there are whispers even among the trees of Albion that the time is almost here. I believe you are ready, young warlock, to _become_ the Emrys  you were always meant to be. Remember Merlin, it is right to grieve and to mourn, but do not give in to despair, or hopelessness.”

His defences already dropped Merlin leaned into the great dragon and whispered,“You know where I want to go Kilgarrah.”

“I know young warlock. Do you wish to attempt to bring the other? He is not the one I expected to see tonight.”

Merlin winced, mumbling “He’s not really the one I expected to bring… Yeah. I asked, I’d like to try. He sort of knows the reason _I_ can go and come back already.” Kilgarrah looked doubtfully at the knight beside him and back to Merlin, seeming to reconsider his response. “If it causes harm to him Young warlock-”

Merlin nodded seriously, understanding the risk and considering the possible perils. “It’ll be my fault. I know.” He smiled cheerlessly. “If we get close and you start going in circles, we’ll drop him off to wait, he brought something sharp and shiny.”  
“So did I Merlin.” Kilgarrah’s lip curled back.  
“Great, you can guard him if this goes wrong, it’s not like I can’t find the place. Gwaine!” He called over his shoulder, and the man appeared by his side,

”We going yet?” he asked casually, and the Great Dragon huffed sulkily.

“‘Yet’, Always so impatient, no appreciation for precision! Yes we are, hold on. This will not be as slow and sedate as your first flight, Sir Gwaine.”

Merlin swung up easily. “Behind me Gwaine, hold on and _don’t_ let go!”

“Wasn’t gonna!” Muttered his friend, apparently not quietly enough for Kilgarrah’s sharp ears to miss, judging by his amused rumble, and followed the instructions. He was barely settled when the creature launched them  into the air. This time there was no going slow, nor was there any of the acrobatics or what Gwaine had concluded was considered by Merlin as ‘playing’, only speed and efficiency. The difference was striking, and made him appreciate all the more the gentleness he’d been shown first time, not a sentiment he was over familiar with himself.

The dragon carrying them slowed just as suddenly, seeming to be slightly puzzled for direction, and Gwaine grabbed for Merlin as they jolted. As he did so Kilgarrah seemed to remember and glided smoothly down into the most beautiful place Gwaine had ever seen, a crystal clear lake, lying at the foot of mountains he was sure weren’t in Camelot before, trees surrounded it and provided a full windbreak. A thin mist should have made it cold, but he couldn’t discern any difference in temperature here, if anything it seemed slightly _warmer,_ just mysterious.

He _was_ surprised to see that there was someone waiting to greet them, as though Merlin was already anticipated, despite the fact he himself hadn’t been planning to visit that night before. At least he hadn’t disintegrated or burst into flames, or turned to stone, or- well, he was sure there plenty of other options for turning up uninvited on sacred ground that legend said was only for immortals and dead men, and he _really_ hoped the second option didn’t apply to him yet.

Freya smiled at them both, waiting serenely at the water’s edge as small waves lapped around her bare feet, the moonlight reflecting off a loose dress that flowed and rippled in the moonlight. It didn’t seem completely human in construction to Gwaine, the way the light reflected giving the illusion of a glowing white halo around her.

He would have thought it magic but for the colour being wrong, an odd white-silver rather than usual gold. It complimented Merlin’s gold nicely though he thought idly.

She appeared to be wearing a simple crown with dewdrops and pearls where precious stones or metal might otherwise be. Gwaine bowed. He didn’t bow to nobles or arrogant princelings, but he got the feeling that this woman truly was something else. More importantly, she clearly mattered to Merlin a great deal, or they wouldn’t be here.

“Welcome, Merlin. It has been too long.” She reached for his hand, and he remembered the last time he had been here, feeling just as broken, as wretched, and finally recognised the difference. Then he came not only for comfort or solace, but from sheer desperation and a lack of _anyone_ else he could go to, it wasn’t a _choice;_ and that changed _everything_.

This time he was grieving, and in pain, but no longer alone, no longer torn and rejecting _himself_ the same way. This time he would not have to leave the peace of Avalon to return to a cold bed and a life of shadows and being unknown except as a fraction of himself.

He hadn’t really expected Gwaine to be able to join him, or if he _did_ to see Freya, what that might mean left him feeling rather unsettled, and yet hopeful, because the man would have to have come willingly.

“It has Freya, I have missed you, so many things have happened, good and bad.”

She smiled sadly, “But you are here tonight Merlin, I felt your pain earlier. All linked to The Magic did. I am sorry my love, and you are welcome as always. I am sorry that I can come only rarely when you do, but we all have our duties, I always _know_ when you are here.” She gave has hand a squeeze and nodded towards Gwaine, who was watching intrigued, with a twinkle in her eyes.

"You may approach." He was oddly compelled to obey, and lost his voice, "You are the one who has been caring for my Merlin are you not? For all his grief and pain tonight, he is more accepting of who he is. Less afraid… and I must say slightly improved on the last time I saw him when he had begun to look unnervingly waif like, if waifs were dragged backwards through woods for a bit… and didn’t sleep. Thank you Sir Gwaine. I am glad that someone is there when I cannot be.” She spoke gently, “I am the Lady of the Lake. We are not competition. I am an anchor for him, and more, for an age, but can never _join_ him as once we planned. I neither resent nor envy you. Strength and Guardian are both needed for Emrys to succeed and _he_ must be whole for Courage to triumph."

Gwaine thought back to the dragon, "And ‘Courage’ is Arthur?"

"Indeed, young one." Freya sounded pleased with his understanding.

The knight raised an eyebrow, "From what Merlin tells me I am easily older than you, my Lady."

She smiled, "Ah, and the flattery and charm returns to you. Alas, no. You misunderstand. I am _The_ Lady of the Lake of Avalon. I have existed in many forms from the first time water was gathered here, and will exist as long as it does. Perhaps even longer, Avalon itself does not depend on the physical water here and time passes differently there. The lady is 'we', not 'she'. _I_ was Freya, but all those before me are now _also_ me. We are a part of the greater whole. Existing on the borders of two worlds. We cannot be less. As Emrys cannot be less. Even if he wished to, it is the raw core of Merlin’s spirit, not separate. They are one. It is… hard… to explain to a mortal. I do not think you can understand, you lack even the tenses in your language to do so fluently.” Gwaine frowned at that, “It is not a fault, Strength, only an observation. You try to, for his sake. That is good, I approve.”

Gwaine’s eyebrows rose further, “Really, My Lady?” He cocked his head, “What would have happened had you _not_ approved?” He asked curiously.

The lady laughed lightly, “Why Sir Gwaine, this is _my_ lake, you walk where no mortal man has tread before, indeed none have left my presence before, none have dared. Only Emrys’ care protects you even now. If I had not approved you would not have left this place. Obviously.”

Gwaine watched her intently as she walked towards Merlin, who smiled easily and leaned down to kiss the woman who was also gatekeeper to the next world and didn’t doubt her words, wondering when this had become his reality.

He was fairly sure that Merlin had known that when he offered to bring Gwaine, and they _would_ be having words about _that._

“Don’t scare the man Freya, I needed a friend, I have done for a long time.”

The spirit-woman chuckled, placing her palms on his chest. “Yes love, you have. I am glad to see you find one, and you know there is only one way you could bring a mortal here. You have my blessing, if you ever wanted it. He’s very pretty. I’d be happy to look after him for you.” She winked at Merlin coyly, “Not yet Freya, I hope not for a long time, but when that time _does_ come, _don’t_ call him pretty? His ego is quite big enough.”

“Oho! The Lady may call me whatever she likes Merlin, I would answer her call gladly.”  Gwaine said clearly. “So would anyone, which you ought to be more wary of you imprudent git.” Merlin huffed.

“Probably.” Gwaine grinned lazily.

“So I don’t have to warn him about not listening to mermaids then?” Freya asked rhetorically, looking at Merlin, who rolled his eyes and turned to Gwaine, “Gwaine, what did we say about trusting the pretty ladies and handsome men?”

Gwaine smirked, “Tomorrow’s problems, not tonights?”

Merlin clipped his ear, “No.”

“Gotta pay the piper?”

Merlin couldn’t keep a straight face then, the bubble that the lake existed in keeping the rest of reality from weighing down on them in all its fullness for a precious few hours. “No, you ass, and I’d better not catch you _paying_ anyone for their piping.” He raised an eyebrow to rival Gaius, and realised it had been some days since he’d seen the look directed at him the way it used to be on practically an hourly basis. He didn’t want to never again see the old man send him one with an acid comment or nag they both knew he’d ignore, but  thinking of _him_ brought back memories he was trying desperately not to focus on, the crushed man of earlier, what he’d done- what they’d _all_ done. His mind betrayed him as the tiny broken bodies flashed through his mind, and finally he crumpled. Intentionally ensuring it was where only his most trusted could see. Except Arthur.  Who needed him unbroken… and a _complete_ report.

He would speak to Arthur when he could use words for it, for now just accepting the comfort of Freya’s arms around him. Freya who was beginning to get frustrated at the obliviousness of some men as she waved one hand madly to invite Strength to come and do his damn job until finally he got that he was also invited to the hug. Really, she thought, Merlin was right, knights were _idiots_ , although he still wasn’t exactly the best person to criticise that, being only slightly less of an idiot himself. There should be some kind of signal system that _everyone_ could recognise, a sort of sign _language._ How long would it take for them to figure _that_ one out on their own she wondered. Not something she would waste her efforts on, because really, she wasn’t supposed to interfere even this much. Something about allowing things to unfold on their own and not meddling, but she never was very good at paying attention to lectures and letting things go. She'd leave Fate alone and not tweak Destiny, but the bits in between were OK surely. Otherwise it would be a very long eternity.   
Destiny was all about the big picture, and Fate seemed to forget the journey completely, and _both_ missed all the minor details of the story. She was still close enough to her human experience to both be described by one guardian as ‘hasty’ and a bit of a romantic.

Gwaine wrapped strong arms around them both and tried to silently indicate his thanks to Freya, finding himself effectively holding up his friend, and his lovely sort-of-but-not-exactly-lover on the shores of the lake she was bound to. Guiding both carefully to their knees on the beach neither hushed him, or told him no man was worth tears this time, or to be careful about the anger that made the air around them crackle and Gwaine hair stand on end as happened to some people before a storm. There were no _full_ explanations, but the handful of half-explanations, half confessions, were more than sufficient to put together enough of a picture to understand, and Gwaine held them tighter, making soothing sounds and letting his friend’s sobs quieten on their own. He was worried enough to try and silently check with the Lady over Merlin’s shoulder, but she didn’t seem to be particularly concerned, simply present and calm. Briefly he heard her in his mind without warning, _“This place is not fully a part of your world, it is safe, he cannot cause much accidental damage in it from here, the power of the Lady, and of Avalon will not allow it. He knows this. This much energy discharged elsewhere might be- shall we say ‘less safe’?”_ She raised a brow at him. Knowing she was still in his head he attempted thinking at her, though he knew he definitely didn’t have the gift some druids did the ones he’d met were still only human. _“You seem calm and surprisingly non-distressed about this.”_

Her clear eyes flickered to his own, not seeming to anticipate a response but willing to answer him, _“I already knew. I have spoken with the spirits of some of those lost to him. His discoveries are not news to me, however sad. One may care without sharing the same reactions Sir Gwaine. It is a beautifully human trait.”_

He nodded, understanding. While Merlin’s feelings were raw, old wounds torn open, and intensely personal, The Lady had some sort of closure and understanding, and had known for years.

As Merlin’s emotional outpouring seemed to come to a natural end he scrubbed at his face angrily, as though ashamed that he’d been seen grieving, and Gwaine gently caught his hand, as Freya handed him an oddly shimmery handkerchief  that he took with a broken chuckle, “What’s the point in wearing this if people hand me these when it’s useful.”

Freya smiled sadly, “I think the answer depends on whether you ask as Merlin or as Emrys, and only you can decide that love.”

“What do you think the answer should be Milady?” He managed.

Her smile lost a little of the melancholy. “I think they are less different than you once thought, don’t you?” He gulped and nodded slowly, “Thank you Freya.”

She shook her head in fond exasperation, “My Merlin, you need not thank me, but my time is up this night.” She cast an eye up at the moon. “It is not a night I can remain as long as I may wish.”

Merlin brushed a kiss to her lips and nodded as though a hidden message had been exchanged between them, and The Lady turned to Gwaine  and pressed one briefly to his forehead. “Goodbye Sir Gwaine, until we meet again on the other shore, pretty one.” She winked at him and walked silently across the surface of the lake before seeming to slip beneath the waves as though she had never been there at all, dissipating as the mist did.

Merlin stared for a long moment at where she had been and turned to Gwaine, an odd mix of nervousness and resolve in his eyes, swallowing hard, he removed the blue neckerchief and tilted his head back to show the one mark he still hid. Gwaine opened his mouth to say something flippant and shut it again when he remembered the intensity and nerves. Instead placing a hand carefully on Merlin’s jaw and properly inspecting the scars he’d kept hidden the longest; because if he couldn’t deal with the reality of _those_ then he definitely couldn’t deal with the reality of Merlin. He wasn’t fool enough to believe it would be the last time someone tried to kill the warlock. Especially once people started to make connections.

“Looks sore.” Merlin snorted and resumed a natural position “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What happened?” Gwaine tried to keep his voice non-demanding, knowing that when Arthur saw it, his immediate response would be to demand a full explanation. Probably angrily or while making threats of violence and retribution.

Merlin shrugged, “I got careless. Fortunately those passing didn’t have the time necessary to set a pyre for some stupid teenager, and it wasn’t one of the neighbours. So, with them being travellers, someone had extra rope with them, which was far more practical. There were too many in the group to take on safely. Will thought I survived by some miracle, but it never quite made sense, I often spent time away when chores were done, so they wouldn’t have looked for a while. Either way, it was him and mum that got me back to normal that time, but folk got suspicious again when I recovered way too fast. I was careful after that. Eventually the only sensible thing was to leave though. I left Mum’s house untorchable after the first couple of times. Safest damn hut that side of the river, ours was." Merlin smiled. "Had been since I was twelve and figured out if I could make soaked things burn, there’d be a way to make dry things _not_ burn. Probably needs an upgrade by now. "

Gwaine chuckled in response to the smug look of reminiscence and Merlin felt himself relax. "So. Next time I take it off you can not stare and won't be stuck wondering, yeah? I think one overprotective knight at a time is enough to manage."

Gwaine leaned back, glancing out to the lake and cautiously back to Merlin. "Do you think you might manage to stretch to two? See I know this other guy who gets _reeeeally_ protective about his servant. He's a good Knight; has some issues with possessiveness, but I suppose that's the downside of princesses. I'm just not sure I can commit to not being protective of the warlock who serves him. I won't make a promise I can't keep."

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Well, I already knew you were a commitment phobe. I could compromise I guess, as long as you are better at sharing your toys than he is."

Gwaine shrugged, "I always knew what I was getting into with that pair. They kind of come as a package deal. Two for one's not bad value you know."  He really had, long before he'd _noticed_ Merlin. From the very first time they had met it had always been ‘Merlin and Arthur’, neither of them alone. Even the first tavern fight had been borne of their dynamic- and of course Merlin running his mouth, though his apparent overconfidence now made more sense.

Merlin looked at him keenly,  "Not many would see it that way. Destiny is kind of permanent. I can't stop. If it comes down to making a choice about who to save, I don't get one, it's always going to be him." Merlin frowned slightly, expecting Gwaine to realise his mistake and retreat. Instead

Gwaine smirked back at him, confident enough of where this was going to tease, "Just means you can't run away for good, and the bitch likes Arthur more’n me anyway; and yes, I get that it means getting between you two and throwing some immature hissyfit would most likely be deadly. I’m not about to. A large part of my job description is keeping my king alive at all costs. So is yours. Same thing, different weapons… and I don't fancy being fired for incompetence."

The warlock suddenly frowned as something struck him, "...did you know Arthur plans to make me his queen?" he asked.

Rolling his eyes Gwaine’s amusement was clear, "Aw, that's mean. Princess is an idiot, but not _that_ much of an idiot…. He's been planning to make you his _King."_ Gwaine had to laugh at the look of shocked outrage on Merlin’s face, _"You knew?"_

"Of course I knew you idiot. You'd look terrible in a dress. Don't have the ears for it."

Merlin threw him in the lake and laughed as he came up spluttering, and dripping, "Bloody hell that's cold!"

"Yep." Merlin smirked

"Oh, you've swam here before! Is that even allowed?"

"Yes. It’s a helluva shock to the system, especially to someone with magic, and I don’t know. I seem to be an exception to a lot of Rules.” He shivered in sympathy, and in memory.

Finding his feet again Gwaine held his arms away from his body, "I don't suppose you can warm it up a bit, you could get frostbite in some very bad places."

"I’m too scared to try. Just in case it's set to the temperature Freya likes. Rumour is that women Remember things; I'm not about to pick an argument with a girl who is immortal and may or may not be in charge of the afterlife of my friends."

"Fair point. That’s a long time to wish you hadn't turned the heat up." Gwaine made his way out with a great deal of squelching and false girning, sitting down and hugging Merlin as soggily as he could.

“Gwaine… I don’t want to be king. You couldn’t have warned me?”

“What, so you could leg it? _That_ would have gone over just brilliantly with Princess. I kind of thought you knew.” The knight studied Merlin and seemed to reach a conclusion, “In all the prophecies and myths and things there’s the Once and Future King _,_ whatever that means, and Emrys. I’ve never heard anything about a Once and Future _Queen_. You already hold equal rank what with an entire People looking to you, and High priest alone would be equivalent to King of the Old religion in this world, same as the High priestess holds the status of a Queen outside the borders. So in some ways Morgana really thinks Camelot is just another part of her queendom that’s being misruled. Essentially two overlapping kingdoms, with one not realising the other even exists, which Arthur still doesn’t understand, but he grasps it more naturally than you do without having to think in circles.

With no High priest king-man there’s no equal-opposite to refute it with her reasonably. Plus, you’re the closest thing to a rival through Igraine, so if he makes you a co-regent voluntarily, then the factions can’t divide so quickly and organise. Cuts off their pre-formed plans. He needs a queen consort, and _you_ need him to have one for your own sanity, and my continued survival on the training field. He’s a decent man, I’ll give him that, and he’ll make a better king, but he’s still just a man. So, you pair don’t do the wedding and tournament favours thing, but rule together with openly equal authority. Your consorts would naturally slip into the positions of advisors, but without any actual power to pass laws or start conquests. I’d bet my arse that Geoffrey’s tweaked some sub-heading or obscure law to ensure that Camelot may be ruled by two co-regents, rather than necessarily a king and a queen. Seems the sort to do it and have back up plans. Or just to defy the king in a subtle way on another point they disagree on, though if Uther knew he might have used it to set Morgana up. Not that _either_ of his kids can share anything.”

Merlin groaned, “There’s got to be another way. A better way. I’d hate it.”

Gwaine watched him, “Sure, there’s _always_ another way, or a better way, but you have time constraints, and power hungry vipers in the nest- sorry, council chamber- and you might hate being a king, but you’d hate serving a queen with an attitude problem who displaced you more. Even if you liked them as a person. The Knights-for-Merthur lot mostly figured he’d take a proper Queen for appearances, and you’d be his real mistress or consort, but I’m going to lose coin anyway because they’ll never believe him making you regent and fucking someone else.”

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes, “Nice, Gwaine. Very _noble_ of you.” but then he shook his head thoughtfully, “How are you ok with all...this?”

“Hey, have you _seen_ me?” Gwaine spread his arms in jest, “Anything else is extra. Doesn’t hurt that you’re both gorgeous mind, and a bit mad. I don’t need the fairytale romance. Or all your attention. Honestly Merlin, both of you have had so few actual _choices_ in life, I figure any you do make ought to be respected, and any you _don’t_ make aren’t things you have control over, so judging wouldn’t make any sense even if I _was_ one to judge.  I’m not the man to take on Destiny alone, seems like asking for pain. She seems not to have left you pair much wriggle room. To the point of ensuring you wouldn’t leave him, and making any distraction extremely difficult.”

Merlin smiled quietly, “Oh I can wriggle very well in a surprisingly small space, but I think she might just once have blinked and looked away, either that or one of the other powers with a romantic streak decided _some_ of my story should be happy.”

Gwaine laced his fingers through Merlin’s and looked down at them, “Remind me to thank them some time. You think they’ll expect some sort of offering, or serenade?”

Merlin frowned, “I suppose. Wine seems pretty standard, mead maybe. Definitely not songs. If _you_ do that you’ll be smited. Smote. Smitten. That thing. If she doesn’t, I _definitely will."_

Gwaine drew back in exaggerated offense, “Ouch. Is this standard threatening behaviour from a warlock, it seems unequal.”  
Merlin snorted at his theatrics, “Of course not. _Standard_ is being given a _warning_ Gwaine, before the behaviour. You’re my friend. I only threaten my friends- far more than I would anyone else. It means you’re special, they routinely beat me with blunt objects and aim sharp ones at me, it seems more than fair.”   
His brows lifted, “Well that’s alright then. But Merlin, do you think you could make me _a little less_ wet. There’s not much dark left, and Kilgarrah can’t get you back while the sun rises, and I really don’t want blisters on my arse from dragon riding in sodden clothes.”

“Wasn’t it you who laughed at Arthur mocking my complaints of sore backsides from horse riding?”

“Well yeah, of course, but only because you were unfairly blaming the poor horse.” Gwaine’s lips twitched at the memory.

“You will pay for that Gwaine. I don’t want to be punished by having to listen to your loud complaining about a blistered arse though so fine, have it your way.” Merlin held his hand steady and concentrated on not accidentally setting anything on fire, it was a delicate balance, and he’d been around enough burnings to last him a lifetime- even one as long as his.

Kilgarrah was waiting for them and looked mildly shocked when the two men emerged from the fine mist that shrouded Avalon itself from the notice of mortals hand in hand. “You have both returned.” Merlin shot a warning look at the dragon who snorted at them, “The dawn draws near. You feel more balanced young warlock, the night was not wasted then.”

Merlin shook his head speaking seriously, “It was not. Thank you Kilgarrah. You’ve more than likely just saved several lives, though they may not realise it. We have a need for speed my friend. You first Gwaine.”

Kilgarrah turned and looked the man in the eye, “You do recall our conversation I trust, Sir knight.”

Gwaine winced internally, of all protective relatives Merlin _had_ to have this one. “Perfectly Kilgarrah.”

“Good.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the pair and swung up between them “You both look utterly stupid you know, Kilgarrah, you know I won’t break- well, I won’t break again.” Merlin blushed at Gwaine’s raised eyebrow after being present. “Gwaine, this can’t be the first warning you’ve had, and you literally just walked _out_ of the mist, ‘Garrah won’t touch you.” Kilgarrah growled as though willing to disprove Merlin’s theory, “Shut it. Now let’s show him how fast you can _really_ go.”

Gwaine’s heart was racing and his hands trembling when they were dropped in the usual clearing, so he missed the goodbye between dragon and dragonlord. “Bloody hell Merlin, that- you are crazy. You know that, right? You are a completely mad bastard.” He yelled at his friend.

“Maybe. Probably. But I’m a non-evil mad bastard of a warlock, so you’re pretty damn lucky.”

“That I am.” agreed Gwaine. The sky was grey as they walked towards Camelot. Merlin beginning to slide back into his 'usual'  day job persona. “How do you do it, Merlin? The servant and smiling, and _this_ at the same time.” Gwaine spoke gently as he watched it happen.

Merlin seemed to consider the question, “I think I’ve just had a lot of practice at balancing things, managing to join different sides of myself together but keep them separate. It’s not really a skill, just what I _had_ to do, and mum helped me to learn to do it properly. I mean, when I was little- _really_ little, there was field Merlin who couldn’t touch seeds until I could keep the magic in and there was home- Merlin who accidentally lit the fire and floated things. I think now if I’d been able to let a steady stream go when it itched then fewer things would’ve exploded. I could laugh even when I was scared of the visitors, look frightened of things that were friends there’s probably a shorter word for when the inside and outside doesn’t match. Then when I came here there was Merlin in Gaius quarters where the magic was hidden but accepted. Even encouraged at times, and ok to discuss honestly. Then there was outside servant Merlin with the castle staff, and Arthur’s Merlin, neither of which can ever mention, react to, or be seen using magic, while still _actually_ using it properly. Same thing everyone does, just more extreme.”

“And the emotional toll? You’d been to that lake before to know it’s a safe place for you to be..uh… emotional.” Gwaine carefully watched Merlin’s expression.

Merlin sighed and looked away, “Immense. There were few times that something was deeply wrong that I could have spoken to anyone though, it wasn’t so much a choice as pragmatic. I understand Arthur that way. We deal differently, but every choice and responsibility ultimately weighs on _us_ , and until recently that meant _me._ To both of us.  I don’t know how I’m going to explain all of this to him, you can’t  be there though, not for _this_ . After though. Definitely after. Or Percy. Probably one for each of us. Otherwise Uther’s a dead man.” Merlin looked back to him grimly. “I still want to end the man. I won’t. Arthur could, and will want to, but he must not. He cannot come to the throne by killing his father in a rage. No matter how much the man deserves it. Morgana would take the throne by blood and fire, so _he_ must be different and take it in calm and composure.” Merlin took a deep breath. “Long game Gwaine, eyes on what’s at stake, not vengeance, it will be worth it in the end. Between you and the others though, for his own sake if nothing else, keep that waste of breath locked in his chambers until told otherwise.”   
Gwaine nodded seriously, “Aye. Alright. When’s the last time you slept?” Merlin frowned, “Not long, I’ve only been up since dawn yesterday.”

“That’s not too bad for _you_ I suppose. Have something to eat when we get in, and try to grab some tonight, ok? Three days without and I’ll report you to princess.”

Merlin squeezed his hand in silent reassurance. “Can you try and look in on Gaius and Mum if I can’t until tonight. It- He had a rough day yesterday and then I vanished, and I’m not really ready to face him again yet. Definitely not before Arthur. If he asks, I’m fine.”

“Oh, and I’m sure the physician of decades of experience will totally believe ‘I’m fine.’” Gwaine rolled his eyes, sounding disgusted.

Merlin grimaced, “He won’t push and he’ll know I actually told you to say something to him, it’s not about believing the words, it’s about understanding them. Welcome to Camelot.” He said, scowling.

"I'll check on them." The road was quiet as they snuck back into the city, the apparent normalcy was oddly jarring after all that had happened and been uncovered, but it was a relief to both of them not to be stopped or questioned on their way. There was just enough time to wash and eat before at least one of them would need to be going to work, and the knights would have early training.

Gwaine saw Merlin to his door deciding it was much kinder in case of his running into anyone unexpected, leaving him with a quick kiss, and stumbled rather blearily into his own rooms, hoping he wouldn’t pay too badly later for staying out all night. _Hoping_ that the others were asleep or preoccupied enough not to notice him returning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that the last chapter was pretty dark. As a family story 'the purge' was obviously not really detailed, but I'm uncomfortable writing it as 'cute' or totally avoiding what trying to exterminate a particular group would mean, especially given some of the current politics. Sorry about upsetting folk, I hope the fluff is some consolation!


	47. Chapter 47

Gwaine looked at Lancelot quirking a brow upwards at his respectful greeting, “Have you two met?” He asked.

“No. Have you?”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell, though I may have been drunk. Still, I highly doubt it’s us he’s here to see _us_ Lance, don’t you?”

Lancelot looked up a Gwaine and remembered something. Keep one eye on the other knight as he turned to someone who was very definitely not supposed to be on the training fields or Camelot. “No, I rather suspect he isn’t. What in the world made you come _here_ of all places?”

The creature fidgeted, “I am only authorised to speak with Emrys, Sirs.” Lancelot nodded to himself, “You are in the wrong place. Emrys is unavailable right now.”

“I- It really cannot wait Sirs, I _must_ see Emrys. This is where he is most often sensed at such a time after dawn.” Lancelot’s brows drew downward, “Sensed?”

“I really am _not permitted_ to discuss anything with you, he _will_ want to know this.”

Gwaine frowned and let his voice drop an octave as he leaned forward. “Thing is mate, we’re not taking you anywhere _near_ Emrys until we know you don’t mean him any ill. Now you look like you’ll understand, so I should only have to say this once, but I walked _out_ of the mist with him, so if you’ve any intention of seeing him I’m gonna need _much_ a better reason than someone anonymous knows he comes here.”

The creatures eyes widened and he gulped, _“Really?_ I thought that… right. I suppose if it must be done you may remain and ensure I do him no harm if you will take me to him.”

Lancelot spoke before Gwaine could do anything stupid, "You can't possibly walk through the city looking like that. Even they would notice, we can cover some things, but I doubt even _Merlin_ could convince them you are not green." The man looked down at himself in surprise. "Yes. And far from where I should be. You are brown and… Metally? Are those _scales?_ You are not supposed to be scaly."

Gwaine chuckled. "He's got you there Lance. You should not be scaled. I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that Mr Green is in fact not _entirely_ human. If he can turn up this close to the castle without anyone seeming to notice, I doubt going unnoticed a little further is impossible."  
The green thing shifted uncomfortably. "If Emrys could come out that really would be better than walking over rock cut from its bed."

Gwaine sighed. "Lancelot has a history of guarding Emrys from harm. Don’t look shocked Lance, I will go very carefully and see what is possible at this moment."

The man’s age was impossible to guess but he seemed rather twitchy, “It really is important. You'll tell him it is _important_ won't you?"  
Gwaine looked at him standing there nervously, surrounded by Knights he believed would kill him. He nodded slowly. "I imagine it would have to be for you to come here."  
Lancelot agreed, "Usually you lot wait for nightfall, or when he goes out to the woods to seek him out."

"Don't go anywhere."

Gwaine cursed fluently and jogged towards the castle, not wishing to signal alarm to anyone but understanding that whatever it was required Merlin and not a go between.  
As he got closer to the prince's Chambers he could hear crashes, things smashing, no voices, but he knew what was going on, what Merlin had to tell the Prince and was loathe to interrupt. On the other hand he had something obviously magical in the middle of Camelot, who would only speak to Emrys.

Setting his jaw and fully expecting to be met by a left hook from Arthur, he knocked, and waited as it fell silent. He could discern no voices inside, but any guard would know if aid was needed. Or maybe Merlin was just upset enough to leak through the ward. He did not know. Just as he began to wonder if they would leave him standing there the door opened. Merlin's eyes darkened until the Knight turned to Arthur respectfully, "I am sorry to disturb you sire, but there is someone here insisting they speak with ‘Emrys’ urgently. We encouraged him to wait but he is in some distress and more obviously _foreign_ than the previous ones. I would not interrupt for anything less but ah, he is green. And next to the training fields. With Lancelot, who he refuses to speak to." He kept his voice calm and respectful, genuinely regretful to have to interrupt them.

Merlin looked furious but managed to control himself and calm down, dragging a hand over his face. "If he is risking coming here in daylight it will be serious. Tell him I am bringing the King. The true King. We will speak with him, but he must be plain, I have no time for games and riddles today."

Gwaine nodded sharply and sped back through the castle ahead of them. Merlin groaned and grabbed the back of Arthur's neck to help ground him, ground them _both_ really.

"We're not done. This isn't over. We are _not_ too fucking late, so don't you _dare_ bail on me after doing so much. Insane as it is for _me to_ be saying to _you;_ Don't kill your father. I can't explain why exactly but it can't come from you and it can't come from magic. On the plus side, there is no shortage of people trying to off Uther, so this time, I simply won't stop them for your sake. Alright?"

Arthur ignored the contact, proving to Merlin that he needed it. Otherwise he’d have shrugged the hand off impatiently.

"I'm not going to, idiot. Which of the knights can you trust not to let me in to see father, or my father _out?”_

Merlin frowned, “Gwaine I think, Lancelot if you explain why. He follows orders- yours religiously- but appreciates strategy, Leon would need an explanation but is possible. Percival lost his wife and child to the Purge, he’d do it for _you_ but I think it would be cruel, no one gets past him though. I don’t know Elyan well enough to judge. It might depend on how he feels about his father, though I _think_ he’d do whatever you asked of him. Sir Gareth is young, and desperate to impress _you,_ the Catha are loyal to you through me and no one is getting past them, but it would be cruel to ask them. The ones he has should be ok for now, as long as _you_ have one of them on you, and me. Gwaine, Lancelot, and I aren’t going to let you become some kind of kingslayer. Let’s find out what greenman wants first, if you down mind? I can fix... _this..._ later.” He waved a hand around the prince’s chambers and the scene of wanton destruction that Gwaine had glimpsed. Merlin was fairly sure there was nothing breakable left intact, but they might have missed something by some miracle.  He warded the door and they set off.

“Merlin?”  
“Yes Arthur?” His servant answered frustratingly mildly. Disconcerting since this time Arthur had seen firsthand the way Merlin shut down that and moved smoothly into the insolent servant shape.  
“What sort of thing is green?”

Arthur was not reassured by his manservant’s rather blank look and shrug, “No idea.  I’ve seen blue things, mud things, pink things, undead things, and a swathe of chimeric beasts. Never met anything sentient and green though, that’s a new one on me.”

Arthur’s growled out “Perfect. Just bloody perfect. They’d better not have turned up to throw off the very careful process we’re working on. Any reports or scribing this requires is on you.”  
“Aren’t they always, sire?”

No one approached them, or made eye contact with either man the whole way down, so Merlin guessed that their frames of minds was easily apparent.

When they did arrive Sirs Lancelot and Gwaine were trying to shield someone from view, though none of the others seemed to be aware of it. Arthur tensed at the long groan of his manservant at his side on seeing the.. Whatever it was. “Oh Goddess. What are you doing _here_ of all places? Seriously _what were you thinking?_ She couldn’t have just, i don’t know, sent a raven or something?!” Then the exasperated sigh of a long suffering servant was heard and a softly growled “You couldn’t have just warned me last night, nooo, that’s just too easy.”

The one Gwaine described as a visitor had bowed deeply to both of them as Arthur and Merlin arrived, and Merlin really had no idea how to react to that with actual witnesses

“Arthur, meet one of the Aos sí, of Gaius books, and some of the most ancient legends I’ve heard. Who is, I assume from colour, of the woodland or meadows somewhere. Does the Queen of Elphame know you are here? I’ve enough trouble already without trying to fix a mess like that!”

The man before them rose appearing startled, “Of course Emrys. As your Lady told you, the land is healing. We are indebted to you, my Lady believed it would be appropriate to inform you that as the water is  flowing purely again, the naiads and water-folk may need reminded of the rule regarding not seducing or stealing the humans. It's been a while and they may have forgotten, oh and the kelpie will require dealing with before your land is safe for others, especially children. Our land. Also she sends her personal thanks and an invitation to meet with you later.”

“Ooooh my gods.” Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain his composure.

Arthur turned to Merlin, “ _Your Land?!_ You have land now? What did you _do, Mer_ lin?"

"That's what you got from this?!"  
The confusion of the creature watching was clear, “Well yes. He accepted it and claimed the land by blood...”

“For god’s sake Merlin, no, you know what, we’ll discuss that later.” His friend’s face went chalk white and folded his arms to avoid reaching out for him.

“You live in the dead valley? No bloody wonder that murdering bastard went so extreme _there._ Shona didn’t tell me.”  
The messenger appeared puzzled, “Well no. I suppose she that we’d be obvious.”  
Arthur choked  beside him, “You certainly are _now.”_

He finally paid proper attention to the prince, _“_ You are the Once and future King?”

“So I’ve been told. Not quite yet. Officially I am still only the Prince regent.”

“If you were not Him then Emrys would not be here, and my glen would still lie dead and barren, yet new life stirs. The blood of one who has mastered the balance and commands the Great dragon has made it so.”

Arthur didn't understand, but he knew better now than to show that, trusting that 'Emrys' would fill him in. “Indeed. Well, as much as it goes against all my usual protocol, I believe offering you hospitality would be unwise, given that that would require publicly acknowledging your existence, and despite the lack of dungeon security in some ways, imprisoning guests is not how I wish to begin relations between our people. You may tell this… _Queen…_ that her warning is appreciated, and that Emrys will come himself or with a sympathetic companion on the condition that they will _all_ return to me whole and undamaged. There is much to atone for, may this be a day of peace between our peoples.”

Merlin nodded, coming out of his slight daze.  

“It lives? The Glen lives? How did I not sense _you_ there?”

The ageless aos si cocked his head, “We withdrew of course, the blood of a slain dragon and her mate in grief poisoned even the magic, you do not sense those behind the veil, as you do not sense _us_ when we must slumber or hide in another land.”

Merlin’s head hurt, Maybe Gwaine had a point about sleep.

“Please tell me that those around you unaware of magic cannot see you for what you are.”  
The man tilted his head, “Of course not.”  
“And I _know_ you wouldn’t make Emrys and the once and future king look like idiots by being completely invisible to the others.”

The man startled, literally jumping, “ _OH!_ ”

“Right. Of course you did.” Merlin whispered and held his hand out towards the Aos sí as he did so. “Congratulations, now you appear to _them_ like a daft squire who injured themselves and required fixing up by the physician’s assistant. If you reach the tree line you can disappear or teleport, or whatever it is you do. Just don’t hurt or charm anyone on the way, I’ll ride out as soon as I finish speaking to the king about something. Thank you Ace.”

The elvish creature before them examined the faces carefully and nodded springing lightly away, and moving faster than any eye but Merlin's could probably follow.

 He waited until the creature had vanished and was gone before exploding,“For fucksake, he couldn’t have warned me? The cryptic bastard must be having a right laugh about now. Oh, and a kelpie. Well that’s just bloody brilliant. I couldn’t just wake the cooperative and helpful creatures, it had to be a for-everyone thing.”

Gwaine half smiled, “Isn’t that kind of your thing though, Merlin? All or nothing. The Lady was right, and she _did_ warn u- you about the water a little.”  

Arthur turned aside, “Lancelot." The Knight responded instantly to the stern voice, "Yes sire."

"You are to guard my father while I attend to the diplomatic summons. He is not to be informed of my absence, or anything heard here today. For his own safety and ours, Uther pendragon is to remain in his chambers, he should be regarded as very dangerous. You are authorised to use force to restrain him should he attack you, and I shall put it in writing before we leave lest it be challenged, though I do not expect to be gone long enough for that to be an issue. Gwaine, the green man acknowledged you, whatever that means, so you’re coming along. We leave within the hour. Merlin you have _got_ to get this ‘friend’ situation sorted out!” Seeing him throw a shocked glance to Gwaine Arthur rolled his eyes. “Not _that_ one, and please, for the love of god never tell me any details, There is _nothing_ good that comes from telling me things about feelings.”

“No-one’s mentioned feelings at all sire. Except you. Are you feeling alright? Should I worry?” Merlin feigned concern and smile at the disgusted noise Arthur made, “The _friends_ Merlin who are currently endangering themselves and us by turning up without warning. The friends who really shouldn’t exist, the friends who are still _very illegal._  I can overlook a couple of extra warriors, who are useful in multiple capacities. I cannot overlook brightly coloured elves or fae, and if you bring a dragon here I _will_ kill you.”

“Good luck” Muttered Merlin.

“What was that?” Arthur’s brow creased.

“Nothing Sire. It’s not like I’m _inviting_ people, they even _told you_ I didn’t. Coming _here_ as a -a ‘foreigner’ is clearly crazy, not the kind I half approve of, the wow-you-have-an-actual-deathwish kind. You can’t pin _this one on me.”_ Merlin was glaring, hands on his hips by the end.

Arthur snorted, “I can pin anything I like on you, you’re my servant. I could pin _you_ if I wanted and there’d be nothing you could do about it!”  
Gwaine was turning red with his effort to hold back unsubtle laughter.

“ _Oh my gods Arthur,_ just because I’m your servant doesn’t mean you fucking _own_ me. I can’t stop random men turning up just because it’s inconvenient for you. At least they did not contaminate your bloody throne room or hall this time.” Merlin face palmed as he heard a passing knight start choking and gave a long suffering sigh, “For fusksake, Lancelot, please go and make that man understand that the Prince mentioning _pinning_ me was not a reference to _nailing_ me in any way, and remind Sir Owain that I _know things;_ before he can try and collect some pot of gold on false claims.”

Lancelot looked unconvinced but shrugged and obeyed without arguing.

Merlin scoffed casually, knowing that Arthur found the teasing more abrasive than he ever did, which made sense for a prince of the realm required to meet certain expectations, and Merlin had long understood was not meant personally. “Seriously? They actually think you’d share someone? Even a servant. The clotpoles are thicker than I thought if they buy that you’d go in for that kind of deal.”

An indecipherable look passed over Arthur’s face  “I’d rather learn to share time than lose something important completely.”  
Swallowing dryly Merlin wished they were anywhere but a place there could be witnesses, “Arthur I-”  
Gwaine interrupted, most aware of the surroundings at that moment, “Well gentlemen, it seems urgent, and we cannot leave such vital things to spread! _We should take anything important away from any flappy eared gossiping fishwives.”_ He added in an undertone that reached both men.

Arthur cleared his throat and smacked Gwaine on the shoulder, but the not-quite-noble caught the faint gratitude of their Prince. ‘Yes. Right. Merlin, bring weapons. _All_ the weapons.  Medicine. Anything you need, and have three horses saddled and waiting in the stables. He nodded quietly, “Yes sire.” Shaking his head to clear it, adding his ‘normal’ mask, “I suppose you _were_ intending on a hunting trip anyway, it’s rather helpful of them to combine tasks. I’ll add your bow shall I?”

Arthur snorted, “You hate hunting.” He looked vaguely disgusted at the very concept of _disliking_ hunting.

“Whatever gave you that impression sire.” Arthur raised his brow and Gwaine didn’t quite silence his exclamation.

“I am perfectly alright with hunting for _food_ done sensibly and with respect, I just cannot tolerate hunting unnecessarily for _sport_ , killing with joy, or the waste that some of the knights and Lords are guilty of, it’s offensive and ungrateful. It does help to know you aren’t also hunting _me,_ and some methods of killing are less cruel too. So easier to make my peace with.” Gwaine shot a look of caution at Merlin to convey waiting until they were closer to the valley than the city to open _that_ can of worms.

Interrupting to break the train of thought was least likely to draw unwanted attention, “Merlin, I have to see Gaius for something and wondered if there’s any message you’d like me to take?” He really had no problem with whatever arrangement they came to, but this was not the time or place, and later Arthur would _not_ appreciate them allowing him to appear vulnerable if he didn’t intervene, even if it pissed him off at the time.

“Ugh, I actually need to check something in his books before we leave, not what I’d planned, but I’ve never actually met a kelpie, and all the sidhe I’ve met so far have tried to kill me. Or Arthur. Or both. Mostly both. So knowing a bit about this set would be useful. Similar but different. Hopefully less keen on killing the king.”

Arthur nodded at them, “Do it. We leave as soon as possible, with or without your answers.”

The prince turned on his heel and left. Leon watched the exchange from the corner, unable to hear anything, but close enough to see that the three were discussing things, rather than knight and servant simply taking orders.

Merlin walked quickly towards the physicians chambers, mind whirling.

Gwaine didn’t interrupt, which he was grateful for, as he doubted riding out with both of them together would help his state of mind. Knocking at the door of his old home he was far less quiet and considerate than the previous day.  Merlin found himself actually smiling as the full chemistry set was out again and in use, something green bubbling over a flame, an orange substance titrating, and his mother sat with a mortar and pestle, with three others beside her. A specific order judging by the precise quantities and relatively small size of them. “Good morning Merlin. I hope you aren’t going to wake Gaius with the same feral battering on his door. He came home last night in a terrible state, I haven’t seen him looking like that since- well a long time. There’s flat bread on the desk.”

Merlin didn’t argue with his mother, but Gwaine raised an eyebrow and folded his arms defensively, “Good. If he hadn’t after yesterday he’d be as irredeemably lost as Uther. His suffering is a good sign. Lady Hunith, we need to speak to Gaius, and it cannot wait.”  
Hunith frowned, “I can’t advise it. Are you absolutely sure it can’t?”  
“If you want to keep your son alive, yes. We will not cause him any harm. His past actions are responsible for his current pain, as are yours, but we are trying to avoid bringing further suffering on anyone so need some direction on which books, because I don’t fancy our chances against the library here in an hour without direction to find some very specific information.”

Merlin slapped the back of his head, “Oi, respect. I swear mum he’s not always this- I mean, he _can use_ manners, just has a policy of respect is earned, but Gwaine, _apologise to my mum_ right now.”  
Hunith’s lips turned upwards as Gwaine rolled his eyes and offered a half hearted apology, “Oh don’t worry, I’m glad to see he has an advocate, Will was the only one back then, and here is complicated, but Merlin is well capable of throwing his own tantrums Gwaine, as I’m sure you’ll see, if you haven’t already. Infrequent and not without cause, but impressive nonetheless.”

Hunith looked at her son with an unreadable look. “You know I’d give my life for your own. _Or_ to spare you another… Be gentle with him this morning, I was someone had told me how fragile things were. Merlin, how little were you sleeping while doing this as well? I know _exactly_ what you do and the consequences, so don’t bother telling me it doesn’t matter. No more irresponsible prepping medications when you’ve been awake more than two days. Promise me!”  
Merlin scowled, “I promise, but I need to get information before leaving.”

He went and tapped carefully at the door to Gaius’ chambers and waited, relieved when he heard the usual sounds of someone getting up and decent, then went up to what had been _his_ room, less careful about his knocking, “Ozzie?! Finian?!”

Hunith rolled her eyes, “You haven’t got any quieter, have you? Oswald was up last night, something troubling him, and disturbances, Finian is retrieving a few ingredients from the kitchen. Gaius is all about efficacy and practicality. An admirable point, but I find that a patient willing to take their medicine without a fight is often more efficient than one who delays it or a child who simply won’t. Some things cannot be improved upon, and certainly he is the best physician Camelot ever had, but _taste_ was never my brother’s forte. There is a reason that _I_ cooked, and it was not my sex.”

The door creaked open loudly, reminding Merlin he hadn’t got around to oiling them and his needed doing too- no. Not _his_ anymore. Hunith’s.

“Gaius!”

The old man waved his hand, smiling weakly, “I heard enough my boy- Merlin. Can’t have you going off blind, can we. What is it this time?”

Merlin squeezed his eyes closed as the vision of the dead glen rose again, “I accidentally woke _everything_ . So a helpful Aos sí turned up- well, was sent- this morning with a warning, and a suggestion we hurry. Seems the kelpie is roused, and whatever other water creatures are about have a bad habit of seducing humans, and it’s somehow now _my_ job to convince them not to.”  
“Introducing them to Sir Gwaine should help with that… Kelpie he said, aha, top shelf of course, but they pose fewer difficulties than several of your other adversaries. It was said they have the same weaknesses as griffins. So far south an iron blade or metal weapon may well be sufficient, but I suggest taking the sidhe staff given who summons you. Remember the spells you used. There are few indeed who would send such messengers, and fewer still who would do it for unselfish reasons.”

Gaius opened one of his less well used bestiaries. “Here. This is what you ought to be expecting. Don’t let Either Arthur or Sir Gwaine be swept up or you chances of getting them back are very small. You might want to plug their ears. Some of the naiads or merpeople, whatever they turn out to be, may even think they are saving their victims from a terrible fate of being eaten alive.”

Gwaine interrupted, “Well I’m sold. Given the options, do _please_ throw me to the merpeople to drown or spirits to seduce away, rather than die horribly to be eaten by a monster.”

Merlin put his hands on his hips, _“Gwaine!_ This is _not helping._ So either shut up, or go and pack your shit, so we can leave faster.”

The man held his hands up. “You really need that sleep mate, but I'm going.”

“No, I need knights and princesses- argh, _princes_ to stop trying to make my life even more difficult than it already is!”

Looking over the frustrated warlock, trapped in a room with the family who had done him such damage, the man who he couldn’t reconcile with yet tugged at his heart. With the warrior priest who served him, yet had such extensive knowledge and left Merlin feeling like he had to prove himself _so much more,_ in the place that had been a home he’d lost painfully, Gwaine placed a solid hand on his shoulder. “Aye. I’m sorry. I’ll sort the horses, alright, give you a few extra minutes here without rushing.”

Gwaine left  and did as he’d offered, wondering if it was wrong to strangle princess for bad timing, like in front of people. It seemed likely that until recently Arthur truly hadn't considered the possibility that Merlin could have someone. Even that he might _want_ anyone. Gwaine didn’t believe for a second that he didn't care about his best friend's happiness. The concept of not being the only one he knew of in Merlin’s concerns, and clearly there had once been Freya, simply hadn't occurred to the Prince as a possibility. So any change, however small would be jarring. He just prayed the man didn't see it as a betrayal--by either of them. Despite the fact he had made his disinclination for men clear to several knights, that didn't mean he didn't see Merlin as _his._

He absolutely did. Gwaine surmised from the lack of mockery, that this change at least was one detail he'd been notified of. He hoped fervently that that was not the cause of the damage to the prince's chambers! At least Lancelot was overseeing Uther’s handling, he’d take it seriously and not question Arthur’s motivation. He also knew about Merlin, which meant he wasn’t going to ask the wrong questions.

He was travelling light this time, time was precious, and he did not want to weigh the horse down more than necessary. Even if that meant second rate travelling rations. He’d make it up to princess later, if they all made it back alive.

 Merlin had read through the information several times, realised he did _not_ have time to figure out the Aos si, or the complicated border-world they were deemed to exist in, and spoken briefly to the closest Catha. Who had cryptically told him that Finian was better at symbols and runes. Which Merlin had definitely _not_ asked about. He didn’t have time to pursue that. When he arrived with his own things, the staff, the physicians light-kit he’d designed for taking on quests and ill fated patrols, and Arthur’s provisions there were three ready prepared horses, a knight chatting to one of the stable boys, and the extra weapons that he’d left in Gwaine’s chamber. Guilt pierced him but Gwaine just shook his head calmly and gestured towards the others still working. “Best get the Princess since we’re all sorted then.”

“Yeah. I’ll just go and- and do that, yeah.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes as Merlin matched actions to words.

“He dropped you already? Don’t worry. He never does stay long with anyone.”

His friend hoped Merlin wasn’t doing the same, but shrugged and looked casually to the stablehand, “If he did it would be his right, same as it’s yours with anyone warming your furs or giving you a quick roll in the hayloft.”

The younger man looked slightly thrown, as though autonomy extending to _everyone_ hadn't occurred to him. Much as he hoped that wasn’t the case, he was a grown man, and always practiced what he preached.  
The Prince and servant strode abreast into the stables more seriously than was usual for them.  The stablehand threw a smirk at Gwaine, which was ignored. They mounted and Arthur led the other two out of the city, as was expected, before falling back as Merlin was the only one who knew the way.

When the terrain forced them to slow down Gwaine decided that the pair might actually go the rest of their lives in the awkward avoidance if not pressed to _talk._ “So, Arthur. Now that the knights are not watching. You do realise that if Merlin ever _did_ add another person to his life it’d be someone who understood he belongs first to you, then anyone else, right? I mean, anyone who couldn’t live with it would be out the bedchamber door the first time you stormed in yelling about something insignificant. Or when Merlin insisted on going on secret Emrys- quests in the middle of the night. You’re never going to _lose him_ , because he’d always choose you first. I’m pretty sure Destiny pre-set you both to that to make sure everything worked out and neither of you ran away screaming the first time you met.”

Merlin groaned deeply, “You utter cock. Why Gwaine, just _why?”_

“Because the tension here is killing me and I refuse to live in a castle where _this_ is normalised. Or the princess routinely tries to kill me in training, where everyone knows why but are all too afraid to comment.” the not-a-noble said bluntly.

Arthur glared at Gwaine as though wishing he’d burst into flames. Probably a good thing it was Merlin who had magic. “Oh come on Princess, better here than on a bloody training field with witnesses and you know it.”

“Gwaine, Merlin _can’t_ be mine, I’m not… _like that._ I can’t give what he needs.”

The knight rolled his eyes and counted to ten. “Aye, and he can’t give _you_ everything _you_ need. It’s why you need a queen consort. Thing is though, you need both, and you know it.

So how about letting her decide what she’s willing to live with, and what she needs. If she can’t tolerate Emrys and the Once and future king, she’s the wrong woman. It wouldn’t work. You do _understand_ there’s more than one type of love right? Camelot’s language doesn’t really cover it, but there’s the love of a warrior or knight for those he fights with, the bond when you rely on each other to stay alive is deep. Has to be. The love between brothers; or with sisters. I don’t know if you’ve met twins, but two born together have even been known to share a spouse, or spouses, despite not being attracted to each other. There are those who fuck without feelings, some call it love, though it’s shallow lust more often than not, and others find both together. You pair… you were literally _made_ to exist together, two parts of one whole. You need each other more than you need any single other person. We are pleasant extras. If him being with me in a different way to you gets between that, tell me now and I’ll stop, Arthur. I won’t pretend it’s what I want, but all that’s secondary to Your joint purpose, I get that, it won’t compromise me serving you or remaining a friend.”

Arthur looked away, but Gwaine saw him considering the words deeply.

Merlin did not. He glared at him, “Then why did you come barging in earlier you prick?”

Gwaine rolled his eyes and sighed, “Because whatever my relationship is with you: friends, frenemies, lovers, it shouldn’t change my reactions and behaviour _as a knight._  
I barged in on you both disregarding your need to talk, because that’s what I would have done two days ago,; because there was an emergency that required Arthur’s immediate awareness, and your presence to resolve, and you could chat later. _After_ the green thing wasn’t by the training fields. If my reactions are significantly compromised then that would be problematic. I love you for _you_ , Arthur obsession and all, I’m not about to change core behaviours towards both of you. Arthur, I’ve no intention of quitting low level pilfering from the kitchen and calling you Princess. Merlin, I’ll still tease you, piss you off, steal the last spoonful and check later that you’ve eaten and slept.”

Merlin smiled crookedly. “Thanks I guess.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The Princess has still to give a verdict.”  Arthur was listening to everything and wheeled his horse around. “No. He hasn’t. As you pointed out rather publicly earlier Merlin; I don’t _own_ you. You are a free man”

The warlock made a disgusted sound thinking of Destiny and his servitude, “I really amn’t.”  
“Shut up Merlin. You _will be_ a freeman, and even those who _are_ indentured should have autonomy to seek out someone makes them happy. Recently I’ve been shown just how much unhappiness you’ve had Merlin. _Without_ support or recourse. I will _not_ get in the way of any that you can find for yourself. Poor as your taste in men clearly is as Gwaine is- well, _Gwaine_ , he makes several good points, and is one of the few who might be able to accommodate without jealousy. I won’t stop dragging you away in the morning, even though we’re essentially equal now.  I can hardly ask you to tolerate me having a queen consort who _will_ demand and have a significant portion of my time, at least at some times, then declare you are barred from the same relief and consolation.”

Gwaine looked between them, relieved that some of the things that had simmered too long were aired aloud, and spoke, “You know Merlin, it’s possible to love more than one person at once. In different ways, or the same. It doesn’t mean you assign them less value, or even care for either less. Perhaps those who can’t understand simply have harder hearts; or the luxury of confidence they can enjoy the same measure stretched over a long period of time in peace. Or the goddess offers blessings that are poorly designed for this world. Freya doesn’t mind that you care for me, enough to drag me through and out of the mist- which I am still pissed about not having information for by the way - and I don’t care that you love Arthur, in whatever way." he looked between them sighing, "Well, if that’s all sorted, shall we go find some monsters?”

Arthur looked at Merlin, as disoriented as he’d ever seen the man and laughed, “Alright. You’ve my blessing Merlin. If he’s really who you want, keep him. Try and train him a bit better. At least I can be sure he’s on _our side._ Maybe even a little more useful than I once thought, despite having only half a brain. You’re going to have to explain the mist thing though.” Merlin grinned, realising that Kilgarrah and the ghost had been right, he really did have a family.

“Avalon. I took him to the Lake of Avalon. Technically mortals can’t go there. At least, they can’t _visit_ and return. I didn’t- I wasn’t _sure._ I’ve been wrong before. I couldn’t take him if he wouldn’t willingly follow… and I can only take someone I love, who accepts the magic. It can’t protect them if they don’t. She’d never have let him in though otherwise, he’d just have wandered in circles for a while… probably.”  
Arthur stared at his friend looking horrified, “Oh dear god, you _idiot!_ You didn’t _explain that?!_ You’re worse than I am at this communication thing. Go apologise you idiot, and find a way to make amends, I don’t think flowers work for Gwaine.”

Merlin mock-frowned for a second “Chicken might.”

Before Arthur could respond to that, Merlin had kicked Trixie into catching up with Gwaine, for the first time not having to hide _this_ side of himself.

In the absence of chicken, and the presence of Arthur, Merlin took an apple from the saddle bags and offered it to Gwaine

“He said I should apologise for not telling you _before_ we went."  
"Aww, Princess finally grew up like a real boy… thanks Merlin. Just tell me next time. Trust me."

Merlin squinted against the sunlight and tried it, with something fairly small that had been bothering him, "I'm working on it. How do you feel about tattoos?” he asked, curious. Gwaine had travelled enough not to react without thought, “Ink? I guess it depends what someone has etched on themselves. Always better than scarification. Infection on those is nastier. Definitely need someone well trained to perform either. If it’s for you-and I’m assuming it is, after the Catha and druids thing- They probably have some very specific patterns in mind and you should go over them first because with it also involving magic, they are probably permanent even for you see first how they would lie on your skin contours. I think it’d be a good look on you, but don’t let princess convince you to use red ink. They’d look like scars and you’ve enough of those. The guys with Hunith- Ozzie? Can help you more’n I can. Why?” Gwaine cocked his head to listen.

 “Something they said earlier. Never mind. No doubt I’ll find out, I don’t think I really get a choice in having them _done_ , and it’s a fair bet it’ll be at the worst possible time.” The warlock shook his head in exasperation.

“Yep. Sounds like you.”

“I suspect they will have to do something before the council, and I'd like to get a chance for them to heal a little. What about on you?”Merlin asked cheerily.  
Gwaine coughed, lips thinning, “Oh definitely not my thing, tried it once, never again.”  
Merlin stared at him shocked, “Oh my gods Gwaine, how drunk _were_ you.”

He looked away and swallowed, “Not enough, not even close to. Wrong time, wrong place.”  
He threw a quick look towards Arthur who was giving them a few minutes without him, which consideration Gwaine appreciated, he tilted his head and held the hair out of the way, showing a black symbol. “Not all of us have magic cloaks mate, hair has to do me. You’ve got your triggers, I got mine. No ink, no brands, no ownership _ever._ Now I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell _that_ part of my story to princess, or anyone else.” He raised an eyebrow and the stunned warlock shook his head, “Gods no, I- sorry Gwaine. Didn’t mean to raise bad memories.”

The knight shrugged. “You didn’t. They’re always there, like your own, with the good ones. You can have my share of ink. I reckon you could suit them. Wouldn’t work on Geoffrey.” Merlin looked at his friend and could help laughing at the image of a heavily inked librarian.”  
“Oi! Princess! You’re falling behind, your horse is getting embarrassed.”

He turned to Merlin, “What do you call _that one_?”

 Merlin exclaimed in horror, “That’s _Llamrei!_ One does not just go renaming the royal Prat’s noble steed.” He nodded solemnly, "He's from a long line of noble steeds don't you know, it is Llamrei now and forever.”

Arthur snorted beside them “And yet you still managed to turn him soft. Too many apples Merlin. You spoil them, and don’t think I don’t know about the stories. They’ve only been overlooked so far because you’re combining it with teaching the stablehand’s kid to read and I need more literate men.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Then educate them cabbage head. What can I say, I have empathy for beasts of burden and anything that has to put up with carrying a clotpole like you all day deserves a break. Llamrei can’t exactly do it himself.”

“Did you just liken yourself to an ass Merlin? Gwaine! I have a witness to Merlin claiming connection to beasts of burden.” Arthur looked for support to their companion.

“Aye sire, he admitted to being an ass, but it _is_ a very _nice_ ass.” Gwaine grinned lasciviously at Merlin and this time got an appropriate response from the man he was blatantly leering over.

“You’re going to be even more insufferable now, aren’t you.” Arthur scowled at him without heat.

“Almost definitely Princess.” Gwaine chuckled, the tension finally having broken.  
The Prince snorted, “Is it too late to take back my approval.”  
“No Arthur, but I’m gonna need a much better reason than ‘You are insufferable’. You said that before.” but he smiled at Arthur, feeling well disposed to the man who would rather face a griffin unarmed than discuss any form of feelings other than rage. Setting that aside to actually _talk_ to Merlin, not _Emrys_ , who was about as keen on such discussions as the prince was or they’d have addressed it _years_ ago, like normal humans, hadn’t been easy.

Arthur was already being pestered about strategic matches. Hopefully having some clarity on his standing with Emrys-Merlin would help him to know better what he actually _wanted_ in a consort beyond ‘tolerates Merlin and doesn't try to kill me’. Riding together after that was much as it always had been, and strangely relaxing.

Merlin’s demeanour changed notably as they approached a pass that didn’t seem to have anything particularly special about it, but the horses weren’t keen on either, and both things put Arthur and Gwaine on their guard. Arthur made a horrified noise at the scene before them, while Gwaine remained silent, having been somewhat forewarned of it.

Merlin froze for a completely different reason. Looking across the glen there was a vast swathe of it still blackened and lifeless, but the river and it’s banks were no longer dead and toxic. The upland where he had, the grass and sage appeared to adorn a mound and young plants were visible.  

He slid down from his mount and walked forward “Do you hear that?” Merlin asked excitedly, voice low lest he scare something away. Gwaine shook his head, “No.”

“Hear what?” Asked Arthur, as they both dismounted.

“It’s alive. Not healed, not yet, but it _is_ alive. The water brings life now, not death. There are reeds Gwaine, and a breeze. Everything avoided here, not even the wind blew through. When Gaius showed me, there only death. Today you can see were the springs are, and the little blue flowers, there is _life here,_ though there is a second settlement to bury before it can flourish. Gwaine looked around to see what would cause the glittering of unshed tears in Merlin’s eyes and he leaned over, smiling widely in spite of the darkness. “There, look.” Gwaine followed where his finger pointed to a bird high above them. “It’s a bird.”

Merlin grinned, shaking his head as he grinned, “No Gwaine. It’s an _eagle._ I’ll worry if ravens start turning up before it’s restored, but if there are reeds… I wonder…” Merlin took off towards the river, with a far less enthusiastic King and knight on his heels. Carefully avoiding casting a shadow Merlin looked into clean water. “Gwaine, look, there are fry, only tiny but they are _there_. It’s real Gwaine.”

“It is, but you’re gonna want to take a step away from the edge or you’ll be meeting whoever it is in sodden clothes.”

“Worth it. Plus, I can dry things like that.” He pushed himself upright, wiping muddy hands on his breeches. “Ugh, and you want to be introduced to a Lady looking like _that.”_ Arthur grimaced, “Well, at least if you go in honest she’s not in for a nasty shock the first time you turn up covered in muck or with twigs in your hair.

“I like nature and not killing things, arrest me sire.” Merlin retorted. "Some people _like_ the woods.”

“Do they indeed.” Arthur raised a questioning brow

“The woods have many worthy values Princess. Like leaves, campfires, and not being seen.”

“Thank you Gwaine, for images that I really _did not need.”_

“Anytime princess. We done? Not that I’m not enjoying the high, excitable Merlin again, he’s one of my favourite Merlin’s, but we’re actually here for a reason.”

The servant-warlock was apparently listening as he came back to them. “Of course. It’s just that when I was here yesterday there was nothing. Not one thing, the water was poison, no insects, no hares, no deer, nothing magical or otherwise in this valley, devoid of colour and joy. It had been that way for years, since Kilgarrah was taken I think. He said it was healing but I couldn’t really believe it until now. It’s beautiful.” He sighed, and when he faced them Arthur could see the man’s gaze sharpening. “They're here. She's come. Kilgarrah and Freya spoke the truth. I'm ready Sire. Diplomacy was never my skill though. Might need you to kick me."

\----------------------

Arthur and Gwaine watched warily as Merlin stepped forward, keeping their hands close enough to grab swords or dagger if needed, and for once Merlin didn’t consider it an overreaction. “Emrys? I was beginning to doubt you were coming. I sent the message some time ago.”

No doubt she'd been expecting him to return with the messenger with a more magical method he thought, "I got your message my Lady, and came as soon as I could. Tell me, who am I speaking to?” He smiled disarmingly. Arthur rarely observed him outside his role as a servant and found it fascinating.

She laughed, a silvery sound that lulled the men with him. He raised an eyebrow, “I learned long ago not to judge by appearances, or kind voices. Especially your kind, after resolving a changeling problem. That was not _your_ doing though. What’s your name my lady?”

“But Emrys, you know who I am.” She swayed with the breeze.

Merlin raised a brow, “I _suspect_ who you are, which is not at all the same thing. The man who brought me the message claimed he was sent by the Queen of Elfame, and yet I do not see him.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “He claimed he was tired and is resting. I am known by many names. I think today I shall be Mab, it feels like a special occasion, and yet I do not want to have misguided humans seek us out. They will not pursue _that_ name so we may feast safely. I am not always here anyway, indeed it is rare, but alas was trapped here by the desecration. I wished to meet one who offered us our freedom, and other do always remain. You can see the wings, my ears, those small differences that _you_ know to look for, Emrys. Now, tell me something in return."

Merlin considered her request, making deals with any of the fae was never as simple as they would make it sound.

"If it within my power to answer you without endangering or harming my companions and I, I will gladly give one to you, My Lady."

She smirked, "I am not _your_ Lady. You are already claimed Emrys **.** But tell me, where is your symbol?I look and yet can see none.”

Merlin looked at her nervously, “What symbol?”

She waved a delicate hand,"Any of them. I can _feel_ you. You are definitely _Him_ , your blood is right. Where is your mark. For healer? For Dragonlord? For Master of life and death? For the Lord of Druids?” She looked genuinely puzzled, rather an accomplishment itself thought Merlin.

“Well, that’s a harder question that you apparently think my Lady. As you no doubt are aware, my path has only recently become ah- _clear_. I could not bear marks openly without endangering not only myself, but the Once and future King, and whoever gave me them; but, since you ask not for specific designs, perhaps the marks the goddess has left me with will suffice for now? Until it is safe for one willing to colour me in to do so. Perhaps my Lady would accept the marks that the triple goddess has chosen to leave me with instead for now? Though it will require the removal of at least my tunic and shirt. I require a guarantee that my company and I are still safe.”

The ethereal beauty smiled and held up her hand, “As you wish Emrys. They shall lower _all_ weapons. I admit, I am curious as to what you could consider such.”

“If I am to do this thing the Once and Future King must be present, I will not show a stranger before him, without him.” Merlin kept his mien unyielding, speaking to the Queen as one leader to another.

“Ah. Your soulmate may remain.”

“My _what?_ Uh, never mind, Arthur! Your presence is required _now!”_

“You do not wish the other to bear witness?”

Merlin blushed, before remembering this was not Camelot, and having invited him partly to tell non humans not to seduce the lost humans, species was probably a far bigger deal than any variation within any particular one. “Oh, he’s already seen what there is to see. At least this half.”

“Ah. Very well. King Arthur, you may stand with me if you agree not to disturb the court.”

Biting the inside of his cheek hard Arthur nodded sharply, “Of course my Lady.”

It _was_ her court. A magical, unfamiliar court, with rules he apparently did not know.

“You asked about a healers mark. I have none. My capability of healing humans requires a great deal of work, I am no master. Kilgarrah, the Great dragon who once guarded this glen, and the Lady of the Lake of Avalon said your valley is healing so I can only assume that this is what you expect to ‘see’. He removed the neckerchief, passed it to Arthur, and held out his hand. "The three lines on my palm have not closed quickly as I have come to expect, it means that they will scar. I haven’t seen them remain gold before, but these currently are. Proof of the blood sacrifice to restore life to this place.” His eyes skipped to Arthur, whose lips pressed tightly together.  
Merlin tilted his head backwards. “My mark for surviving the hate of Uther Pendragon’s death squads and followers; the rope marks were still clear and he looked straight ahead, at the Queen, avoiding Arthur’s gaze yet. “I have to remove clothes for others My Lady.”

The Queen smiled coyly, “I am waiting Emrys.” He smirked back, not many were so open with him, nor so forward.  
“Very well.”  
Taking off his long coat, and pulling shirt and tunic over his head he ignored the gasps. “You see, my Lady, why identifying tattoos seemed excessive, though they are far prettier.”  
He indicated the one on his chest, knowing Arthur had already seen it. “This is from my battle with Nimue, I was far too young, and unaware of the implications to have undertaken such, it was a difficult lesson, and not primarily because of the physical discomfort. It is the mark I was left with to remind my of the importance of self control and as I recently discovered the moment I took her place rightfully, though it is one I failed to claim, and then later denied. I regret that people have suffered for that, and is a situation that can no longer continue.” He looked at a scratch on his abdomen and decided to ignore it as really there was no significance to that one from a luck bandit.

“Here, on my side, I was flying with Kilgarrah. I suppose it is a symbol of being his dragonlord as he would carry no one else, unless at my request. Though I would never take them into a storm. Or cause one with a companion.”

He smiled in memory, “I suppose it also might cover the ‘son of sky’ thing too.”

He turned, “Here on my shoulder. Something like that usually heals cleanly, but this was standing up to a prat who became a good man. I think it reminds me of the difference and his growth. The lines are from my time with the witch-hunter, they remind me that my kin still suffer when they have done nothing wrong. The ugly one further down is from serkets. I was bound in magical chains in the woods, while the knights battled on alone against an enemy they could not possibly win against. I’m not sure of any special meaning, but it serves as a reminder of why I cannot abandon the people of Camelot. Their defenders would give their lives, but some enemies require, well, _me_ to fight. It was this that first taught me how even good things like the cup can be turned to great harm in the hands of a dark witch. It hurt like a bitch.”

He faced the Queen again. “These on my wrists. I have been a prisoner in handcuffs and the stocks now so many times that the marks seem permanent. I am always a prisoner here. We all are. Even as we walk free. It is… I hide _these_ from even myself. The differently coloured part lying over the mark from the Blessed isle is from the first time I fought the Sidhe, the _banished_ sidhe, not your fair kin. I uh, I brought the staff which answers now only to me, and belonged once to Aulfric. He tried to use Arthur’s soul to buy his daughter’s return to Avalon.”

“That is evil indeed. Then this mark shows your mastery of the staff, and your welcome at the Lake. Arthur’s soul is yours, only you may send him to Avalon should the fair Lady allow it. Don't worry, she will, despite their past.  
To steal a soul that is claimed by another risks war among us. Sophia would have been punished severely had she succeeded in using the Once and Future king to open the gates. Death was a far kinder fate than what awaited her there.”

Merlin blanched, all he had been focusing on at the time was saving his friend. "Will these then suffice my Lady, to prove that you are not deceived, though they be less elegant."

She smiled wickedly, “I will expect you to address the matter in time, for you cannot allow some false young upstart to challenge your position on such flimsy grounds, and some will. It is far more difficult to do when you wear open proof of your position that requires the backing of Catha or druid council. Enduring pain such as you have should make the needles feel like butterfly kisses. Yes, Lord Emrys. These are more than sufficient to silence any doubters or challengers in _my_ court. _We_ understand the meaning, more than you yourself yet it would seem; but you are learning, that’s good. Yes, very good. You may put the rest of your clothes back on if you wish. Your King looks ready to challenge someone right now, and I will not have violence without my consent here. This Glen has seen enough blood at the hands of Pendragons,"  
It was as effective as dunking cold water over him to sober Arthur, and he forced himself to calmness. Not outwards, but honestly reeling in his impotent rage.  
"My _King,’_ as you call him, had seen only a fraction of the physical damage until today, this was not how I planned to explain. I suspect you knew that though and were bored after so many years without entertainment. I can forgive you that, but you will tolerate whatever reaction you have provoked without condemnation Mab." She did not look pleased at the chastisement, but neither did she argue.  
"As you have said, you were visiting, an honour for us to be sure, but this is _my_ land and waters by inheritance from the last of its people, and by bloodright through Kilgarrah and the acceptance of the goddess. I too wish for no more blood to be shed here. In the interests of that actually being possible, can you please give me some directions. It would save a lot of time."

"the one you named 'ace' will show you. Why did you not ask his name?"

Merlin shrugged. "Arthur has no experience of the old tongue, or what came before."

Mab nodded as though she agreed with what Arthur was certain was a lie.

"before you leave there is a last thing. Gifts. They must be exchanged must they not?"

Merlin turned to Arthur and hissed at him, "Did you know about this?"

The Prince looked horrified, "You mean you came to meet a queen and _didn't_ bring any? Were you ever paying attention to the greeting and exchanges when other Kings visited?"

"Not really, more the plots and working out who was going to try and kill you."

"For the love of Camelot… Fine, you're going to have to make something up." He elbowed the warlock hard to prompt him to turn back. Looking at the gathered aos si Merlin decided there was a good chance they'd sense bullshit, and perhaps lying to Mab might be unwise.

Not at all confident in his decision he began nonetheless. "Lady Mab, I must disappoint you. This is in fact my first attempt at what could be considered a diplomatic meeting. You have the dubious privilege of being the first to openly treat with Emrys. I brought no gifts to exchange, though it is not a reflection of your hospitality. All I have, is the horse to ride back on, the once and future King, Gwaine, and the clothes I stand in. I fear all I have to offer you it the worn neckerchief that served to conceal my um, collection of markings."

Mab beckoned to one of the most important looking next to her that Merlin surmised must be an advisor. She turned her full attention back to them. "I believe that will do nicely. Let it be a beginning, and we can show them you no longer hide but accept your role. If you give this to me, you swear before my court an oath that you will no longer conceal what the goddess gives you. In good faith I will allow you to cover the druid and Catha markings, for they will be made for men to understand and see, not for Magic. You will cease to use the selfish enchantment?"

Merlin looked back towards Arthur, much like Mab to _her advisor_. "It's not then a gift from Camelot but a personal commitment from you. I can't decide for you."

"If it was you, would _you_ do it."

Arthur sighed, " _I_ _f_ it was me, which it is not, I'd ask myself whether it would contribute to the peace, and whether it was a great risk. I believe I would, yes. For peace."

Merlin chewed his lip and answered, "My queen, there is danger in this for me, it has been a personal item. If you will agree to me keeping a corner too small to use but sufficient to sense if it is used in dark magic, I will do as you ask, this gift would belong only to you and not be divided and shared as there are many who lack wisdom or the ability to let destiny unfold. If I entrust you with this it will be a responsibility."

Arthur watched, wondering again how he had never _seen_ Merlin.

"I approve. Yes, you may keep a corner, but now, there must be something reciprocal, or we would be obligated, and I cannot allow that. Orion, bring the second elixir," a dark haired man with a purple tinge to his skin obeyed. "This is not _my_ first meeting Emrys, immortals have a great deal of practice. These beans should not grow here but fed by the three springs they will. We dry and grind the beans. It was once a prized export of this place. Orion brings you a sample. It has properties for rousing someone and granting energy. More importantly for _you Emrys_ is a gift of knowledge. Never underestimate gifts of information my dear." She leaned in, placing her lips next to his ear, "Kilgarrah is _not the_ last. There is another. Possibly others across the sea or further than I can feel, but in Albion one remains in the egg, in the tomb of Ashkenar. I caution you not to go there lightly. Now I believe that we are even." She smiled, tucking away the incomplete cloth, and the purple one brought forward mugs he looked to small to safely carry. He handed one to each of them, and while Merlin found it bitter and in desperate need of sweetening, Arthur made noises of appreciation almost inappropriate for such a gathering. It seemed to please the Aos si, and the courtiers of Mab. "Ace!" A green one came forward grumbling quietly, "Yes?"

"Show the good men where to go."

At the clear dismissal they did as she said, finding Gwaine waiting for them.

"Did you really like that vile drink she gave you?"

"Vile? Merlin, that stuff is the nectar of the gods, you must plant the seeds immediately, before we leave!"

Merlin looked at the slightly hyper King, questioning the wisdom of that, but not able to argue coherently, full as his mind was of Kilgarrah not being the last dragon.

"Congratulations Merlin. You survived your first diplomatic visit and didn't start a war. That's pretty unusual. Especially if you also don't agree to marry someone.”

"Yes, that would have been quite difficult to explain."

Gwaine grinned, following Ace, “Not as hard as you think. Princess here probably has a string of broken engagements."

Arthur rolled his eyes but didn’t contradict the man. "Why thank you Gwaine for volunteering for night watch."

"Hey, I'm just saying that it is pretty standard for nobles and desirable men and women to end up that way. Either pawns in a bigger game, or targets people compete for. Possibly the only plus to being a noble _if_ you are in the fortunate position of being male. For the women it’s brutal and exploitative. One of Uther’s very, very few good points was outlawing child brides and not trading off Morgana early.

Arthur sighed, “He's right you know"

Gwaine clasped a hand to his chest and staggered backwards, Did you hear that Merlin? I want that on a tunic."

"Then learn to embroider." Arthur scoffed not expecting Gwaine to grin back at him smugly,

"What makes you think I can't already?"

"......"

"....."

"Then you can fix your own deadly socks when they go holey." Called Merlin.  
"All I should really have to do is explain that a bunch of folk already own me and I'm unavailable as per Freya's instructions." He said evenly.  
“You think that they will listen to her?"  Gwaine asked.

"Well, we don't talk duties much when I see her, but she guards Avalon. That includes making sure rogue sidhe don't come through on a regular basis trying to take over, and humans don't get close enough to even find Avalon. Even she has bad days, but yeah. I'm pretty sure they won't argue."

The knight chuckled, "That is a very good point Merlin."

Arthur pursed his lips, "Do you think she'd talk to the council for me? Convince them to let it go? To leave me alone."

Merlin’s brows rose and he crossed his arms, “I think she would kill the council and bar them from Avalon; and I wouldn’t stop her."

Arthur grimaced, "Maybe not then."

"No. You'll just have to tell them yourself."

"Tell them what _exactly?"_

"The truth you total prat. You want to pick _your own_ queen, who you enjoy time with and is not foisted on you by a bunch of old guys who haven't been laid in at least a decade and have the temperament to prove it. Or, y'know, that you want to marry for love."

"You are such a _girl._ That is sickenly sweet and alarmingly naive all at once. Women don't pursue princes for love. They do it for wealth, power, influence. To escape from other, worse options, for an illusion of freedom, but not for love."

"You really believe that?"  Merlin didn’t hide his pity well.

"I don't _want_ to." Arthur scowled. There had been no space for such vacuous concepts as ‘true love’ in the Pendragon household as he grew up. Many examples of the misuse of that lie, but never had it been a _welcome_ idea.

Merlin’s voice was unbending, almost harsh as he held back the censure that belonged to Uther, “Then don't. Find the one that never sought power, and sees the man you are."

He spoke as if it was easy, though he well knew it wasn't.

Arthur didn’t answer as they reached the water and their guide halted, “There. That’s where he is at rest, but it will not last, it has been many years since he last fed.”

Merlin nodded grimly, “Then let’s make sure it’s many more.” He jerked his head to the others. “Swords at the ready.” It was an unnecessary warning, both of the knights already had them in their hands.

“Are you going to remain and show us those you require a warning?” he asked Ace.  
The creature laughed with a harsher edge. “No need Emrys. _They_ will find _you._ Don’t let your companion wander alone.” Merlin set his jaw, I’ve no intention of it. Thank you for your help. Tell your queen that I expect her to honour an oath on the Old religion made in the territory of Emrys. Destiny will hold her to it, as it holds me to mine. Friends are valuable to all. If she treats with the witch now I _will know._ Be careful. Thank you Ace. _”_ the green man made a noise of acknowledgement and leapt up, darting quickly across the valley.

“Right, so what are we actually looking for _Merlin?”_ The warlock remembered just in time not to face palm with a long knife in hand, “Big, giant, man eating water-horse, with a taste for delicious little children, and a dislike of swords in its gut. Or anywhere else.”

Gwaine’s voice broke in then, “That, Princess, _That there_ is a kelpie, and apparently either ravenous or reeeeally pissed off because he’s not bothering to dress up as a pretty white horsey for you.”

Arthur tried to glare at the man next to him, “Sir Gwaine, you sound far too cheerful for this.”

“Well sire, I’m a little sleep deprived, but not enough to be dangerous, and unlike some _I_ paid attention to the campfire and marketplace stories. If he gets you, you don’t even need a death-strike, He’ll let you go with the lightest blow.”

Arthur looked at his cheerful knight and grinned maniacally, “Well that’s good news… What are we waiting for?” The once and future king launched himself towards the rocky beach, heedless of the irritated warlock yelling in some exasperation behind him. Definitely no more 'elixir' for the royal prat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated, if there are any gaping mistakes do tell me!


	48. Chapter 48

What followed was one of the most chaotic fights that Merlin had ever been witness to; and Merlin was fairly familiar by now with chaos. Neither of the knights seemed to remember the instruction to _stay out of the water,_ and Arthur was caught by the creature before Gwaine managed to impale the thing on his blade, which then became stuck. Fortunately the reaction of the kelpie was enough to throw Arthur free and strike a killing blow to something vital. Gwaine insisted on going back for his sword and got a swipe for his trouble in rescuing it by putting himself in more danger. It was a _very_ good sword though; Gwaine wisely decided that was not a response Merlin would appreciate right now.

“You cabbage headed, moronic git! What on earth were you thinking- and YOU! I don’t know what _you’re_ laughing about, You were the one who ran in first without backup you prat!”

Arthur trying unsuccessfully to look repentant. “I had backup. I had you and Gwaine, that’s plenty of backup.”

“Ugh, you are both stupid. Do you know what we did yesterday when we got here? Hmm? Gaius and I, we wept. There was nothing but dust and ashes, except for the remains that Uther’s men left in the open. This isn’t some fun quest where you get to have an adventure and feel like big fucking heroes then go home. I moved the bones of the people who lived here, swam in that loch, fished in _this river,_ I held them, and removed them from the ditch piece by fucking piece, I laid them out the men, women and children looking out down the glen to where we are standing right the fuck _now._ This place was so desolate that there was no grass, no would, no fuel for a cremation and the goddess herself had to intervene. The blood sacrifice thing, that isn’t _normal,_ it’s not standard practice, that’s desperation. This was Kilgarrah’s eyrie, he had a mate- you know he’s never once mentioned that. I never knew. I don’t know if he had offspring, but in a thousand year lifetime it seems pretty likely, and now it’s mine?” Merlin froze, taking deep breaths to keep control, “Oh my god. It’s mine. This is _mine._ What if they expect me to leave Camelot, or live _here?_ I can’t just leave, but what if Morgana realises this is here and tries to use it as a base?”

Gwaine placed a hand on his shoulder, “One thing at a time mate. Stop, and breathe. We were battle high, won’t happen again.”

Closing his eyes Merlin did just that. “Yes it will. Probably within 48 hours, but at least you apologised this time. We’ll stay close to the shore, follow it, the naiads or merfolk are too curious and well, _territorial_  to stay away long. If they don’t listen to me I can at least try the vilia. They’re sort of _connected_ to Freya. It’s complicated. I want to find where the others lived. I need to-” His voice broke and he cleared his throat, “I need to do the same thing for them as I did yesterday. I have to. Then return to Camelot. Finian and Oswald have information I require. Someone has to come out with me tonight for Kilgarrah to check Fin properly, and gods I need to sleep to make sense tomorrow. Arthur, please will you put up with George tonight, if I’m there in the morning?”

“Going by the state of you, I think Gwaine might find a way to punish me if I _don’t._ I’ll cope Merlin, it’ll just be like one of the _many_ times you went missing to _not_ the tavern. Don’t think you’ve got out of explaining those ‘marks’ that the smug woman demanded to see either, but I’ll wait. A little. Today is for other things. I expect an explanation before you get inked up, which I assume will _start_ before the council, and you are running out of time.”  Arthur folded his arms and looked sternly at his manservant. “No thanks to a certain prat. I rather thought you got enough of an explanation of my scars with a bloody audience _sire.”_

“Oh, sure. If you had no legs. Or ‘unimportant’ ones. Or the thing I assume was prior to arriving to Camelot.” Merlin was glad he knew Arthur well enough to be certain the anger wasn’t actually directed towards him.

“Arthur!” Yelled the warlock, clouds gathering, “Do you really think _knowing_ the story behind every single scar in detail would _help_ you? What do you think would be _gained?_  If they become relevant _I will tell you,_ but I really don’t see how sharing the details of being lynched, or tortured, or fighting and winning against possession are going to help you right now. I don’t poke and prod at _your_ pain, so butt out of mine, you are _my friend,_ I owe you my allegiance and aid. Not an account of my torment. You’ll know any incurred in future anyway.” He mumbled the last, leaving a slightly stunned king behind him and pleased looking knight. As he turned a light drizzle began, without any accompanying dramatics. Gwaine clapped Arthur on the shoulder and approached his friend. “How do we find the place this second group lived. Seems like an easier job with three men than one. May as well put us to use.”

Merlin looked around to see that Gwaine was offering in earnest. “It’s not too difficult, just identify where _you_ would settle in the terrain, safe looking bit. Do you see anyone in the water yet?”

Gwaine scanned the surface, “Some dark shapes, but nothing particularly useful.” Merlin stopped suddenly and turned to the shore, walking slowly towards it and shouted clearly.

“Show yourselves. Are you friend or foe to us?”  Two people appeared to walk from the water then, one male and one female, both with hair down to their waists and stark naked, Gwaine couldn’t see well but he thought he _might_ have spied light webbing between their fingers as they reached for Merlin. “Allegiance first. Who do you serve?”  
“You are not as friendly as they said, Emrys.” Said the male looking perplexed.

Merlin sighed. “I have had a very long week, and even _Emrys_ has bad days.”

The creatures seemed to consult with each other, though all Gwaine could make out was a sort of burbling noise one might hear from a burn. “Sorry Lord Emrys, I forgot that yesterday was not a celebration for _you._ We are water sprites of this lake, we serve the Magic. Some answer to Lí Ban if she calls, or to Lyr. _We_ serve the Magic. The Witch we have heard, and sensed. She no longer heals unless for her own ends. She claims the authority of one she does not serve. We come as willing friends to you Emrys, not as foes, nor as spies. Our own people are not as… Rooted as many others. The dryads and the fae. We go where the water goes, and healthy water flows through many lands. There are those who guard the sacred springs, and the headwaters, of a different ilk, but the water sprites and the merfolk, we follow the current, the fish, and the tow. We remain now only because the water is not yet healed, and it is our place to repair such damage. When it is, there will be others in our place. Good, yes, and gentle when warranted, but free. There are those to guard and build with ice, and those to guard the seas. We flow through so many places, and the water holds to no borders of men, so short lived; fickle and changeable. I believe my kinswoman and I shall tarry a little longer, until you have learned enough to be safe and guard your valley, it is our duty to the water and those who would live in it. It is a shame that you have been so neglected yourself Emrys. You must be careful. The Witch has felt a disturbance, though she doesn't yet understand what. She scrys where the spirits are _loyal_ to the triple goddess. The water will not show her the Emrys she seeks and it angers her. Some followers begin to question now if she is truly wishing for freedom. Or if conquest is her true desire, like her father. No longer is the resemblance hidden."

Merlin sighed. They couldn't just be simple and united. "Thank you my friends. I appreciate your help more than you know. If you wish to protect the water here, please spread the word that humans are protected. They are not to be taken, or led away. We will give them no reason to harm or curse the sea, or damage your home. If one of you breaks this command those loyal to the lakes protection are to report it, so that justice can be done accordingly. If they do not answer to _me_ , I shall pass the matter on to the Lady of the Lake."

Both blanched from head to toe. Apparently Merlin was far less scary than any of the women he shared things with.

"Consider it done Lord Emrys. Cordelia here is a gossip anyway under normal circumstances. Her command over the uncouth earthen tongues though leaves much to be desired, she doesn’t like to use it on principle”. He smiled, “I haven't been our spokesperson in a long time. Few enough men will see us. Some lands even claim that only females inhabit the sea. I worry about the weak minded going about unguarded. Even the solitary creatures must have a mate occasionally.” He paused, “You know humans better Emrys, why do they never see us?"

Merlin shifted awkwardly, looking sideways to Gwaine, not liking the suggestion of humans and himself being different, "Well, I suppose that there are more men sailing far from the shore than women, and the _mermaids_ at least try to lure them in and seduce sailors. Quite effectively I’m told.  Perhaps only the ones that would ah _notice_ men on land see the mermen and uh- _you."_

His smile brightened, "Ah, that would is fair, I suppose we can’t hold it against them then. Perhaps we ought to hunt closer to the shore then, where washer women gath-"

Merlin scowled at him, "No! Bad water sprite! No hunting humans."

"What…do you mean not even to play with?" He looked shocked.

Merlin gestured wildly towards the lake behind them, "Well yeah. They can't breathe underwater, can they, so playing too far from the shore or too deep tends to kill them quite quickly."

The man looked puzzled for a moment. "Can't they? I suppose that would make sense… so when one says 'help' they mean 'out' not to swim?"

Dragging his hand across his face Merlin cursed mentally, "Oh. Dear. Goddess. OF COURSE THEY MEAN OUT YOU IDIOT!"

Even the woman was paying avid attention now, "What about outside of Albion. Does it work the same way there?"

Sighing Merlin answered him, wondering how exactly it was that Destiny had decided _he_ was best qualified for this, "Yes. Humans work the same way everywhere. Even the ones who wear odd clothes, or no clothes, or colour their skin, or have completely different skin. Humans are humans."

The sprite shook his head, appalled, "They're a bit helpless. Aren't they."

"Well… Yes. I suppose." Merlin glanced towards his friends hoping they weren’t too personally affronted.

"And not very good at surviving on their own."

Merlin sighed, but had to agree, "No, not really.

“Do you think we should maybe help them when they get stuck at sea. I'm not sure why such bad swimmers keep trying to cross it and use wood. Don't they know the rocks are stronger than wood? They keep crashing. Even on the same bits." The sprite shook his head in consternation.

"..... Yes. That's - that's actually not a bad point really. They would definitely benefit from some rescuing from time to time. Might even write you some ballads, or start leaving offerings if you did it a couple of times."

"Huh. I like songs."

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Fine. How about _I_ write you a really great song, and you stop accidentally drowning humans OK?"

"Deal. My name’s Moray. Oh, Cordelia wants her own song too." He grasped the hand of the woman next to him.

"Well that depends. Will _she_ leave all the humans alone too?"

The girl sighed in resignation and burbled. Moray nodded and translated for Emrys and his human.

“She says yes. Even outside of Albion where she thinks you can't see. _”_

Merlin tried not to appear sceptical, “Then yes, she will have her own song too. Humans add more verses of their own when you save them.”

“I don’t think the King should be talking to that mermaid Emrys. She hasn’t heard the Rule yet!”

 

Merlin swore and leapt over the rocks between him and the mermaid, shouting in the Old tongue to freeze them both in place. Arthur was leaning over at the edge where the bed dropped sharply away, staring at someone whose burgundy curls would be easily dismissed as seaweed if she wished to be unseen. Merlin couldn’t see what colour her tale was beneath the surface but that was not a concern; what _was,_ was the fact she was slipping a delicately webbed hand up his arms and smiling beguilingly.

“Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed? Oi! You! _Put him down_. Let. My. King. Go. You get one warning.”

The mermaid trilled cheerfully, “But he’s happy, he _wants_ to come and play.”

Merlin crouched down next to them, ready to grab Arthur if he lurched forward, “Yeah but he's an idiot, and he's mine. Get your own Once and Future King!"

The mermaid pouted, "But I want this one. He matches the sand."

The warlock prayed for patience, he knew mermaids were often vain creatures and liked to collect things but this was a little too far. "Tough. He already belongs to Destiny and to Emrys. You can’t have him."

She cocked her head and seemed to finally give him her full attention. "You're sure?"

Merlin reigned in the instinct to hiss at her, wondering if it was possible to instinctively know expletives in new languages. _"I'm_ Emrys, so yeah. Pretty sure. Leave the human alone. Since you seem to have forgotten, it is _not OK_ to seduce or hunt humans in Albion. Especially my friends. This one here? Believe it or not he's important. We plan to free magic, and that is a _lot harder_ to convince people of being a good idea if you lot start kidnapping them. If you're going to play, try talking to ones on already on boats, or saving the ones who can't swim _by taking them to shore_."

She looked at him in bemusement repeating slowly "Can't… Swim? Can't swim where?"

He grimaced, realising suddenly how odd the concept must be to one who lived their entire lives in deeper waters. "Anywhere, or just not very well." He tried keeping it simple.

The mermaid shook her head confidently, "Things do not go in the water if they can't swim Emrys."

Thinking about it Merlin was forced to concede that it was at least an _unusual_ habit.  "Yes. Except humans. Humans are idiots. They are bad at avoiding danger, insist they can do impossible things without injury, and really deserve your pity for such poor decision making as _my_ human here has shown.” He tried to ignore referring to them as a separate group to himself.

She nodded thoughtfully and withdrew her hand from Arthur’s thigh, “Will he be safe with you?”

Merlin swallowed, “As safe as anyone with a Destiny _can_ be.”

“Then you should keep him.”

He rolled his eyes, feeling a headache building, “ _Obviously._ He’s the other side of the coin, and believe me, you might be able to handle _him_ but _I_ am a whole different thing. That man is _mine_ and you are only still breathing because you listened and I am _choosing_ to be merciful.”

The girl seemed to understand something then and smirked, not a reaction he was expecting, _“You’re_ the one they were talking about, Oh, Triton is never going to believe I met you for real- he’s such a sceptic about gossip- I didn’t think you were real. Well, not _really real_ like this, but you don’t look like an Emrys at all! The weather was all wrong and I thought the boys were lying when they said it wasn’t them to not be in trouble- we’re not supposed to do that without permission or an emergency. I should apologise to them. Oh! Wait; Are you staying? They’d believe me if I brought them to meet you.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, “No! I’m not staying. This wasn’t even my plan for today.”

Her face fell, Merlin _almost_ felt sorry for her, he knew _exactly_ how it felt to be disbelieved about important things, then she gasped and brightened, “Wait! If I give you a mirror, then they could see with the other half, and _then_ they’d believe me, will you take it? Oh _please? Please_ let me prove it! Otherwise they’ll tease me for like, the next four hundred years at least!”

Merlin looked at her curiously, “What age _are_ you?”

“Even you must know that’s a rude question.” The girl looked offended.

He frowned slightly, “None of the women in my life look their age and it’s confusing. Alright, I’ll make you a deal, you can swim fast can’t you, and spread messages quickly?” She nodded frantically

“Very fast! They call me Isla now for my speed between the isles. Others are better at swimming longer distances without tiring.”

“Good. Then I’ll take your mirror, and even use it, answer it to prove I exist if you spread the word to all of your people that there is to be _no hunting humans_ , and that _humans can’t breathe water.”_

“Just here?”

“No Isla, not just this lake. All of Albion is under my protection, and the Great dragon will inform me if you are taking them from outside the borders, and though they may _look_ like adults and have responsibilities, most are barely children to a creature of the Old religion. Think of the choices your merkids make. Children are impulsive, and run into danger. Humans- we don’t live very long, they act a lot like that sometimes.”

Isla nodded knowingly. “Ah. Then they are not _idiots_ exactly but children who have not yet learned? Yes, I see why it would be difficult to keep them safe then, perhaps it is best that they remain in the care of a guardian. Do you wish to keep the one who does not match the sand too?”

“Yes. He is no King, but he is Mine to guard nonetheless.” She smiled at him, “I see, then you _would_ notice us all. My brothers owe me a razorshell each! Oh, here!” She pushed two unnaturally reflective shells at him. “There’s a spare in case one is broken. Don’t lose them!” She slipped beneath the waves and disappeared.

 Arthur stood up with a dazed look on his face, “What just happened Merlin? I only looked at the water for a minute and then there was something fascinating, beautiful, and I can’t remember what it was.”

Merlin dragged him bodily from the edge, “It was death Arthur, a very pretty, very _deadly_ sea-woman, honestly you two are unbelievable, the pair of you are complete idiots. This,” He flung his arms wide, “This is why we can’t have nice things, do you realise how much more trouble this will be? _Now_ every time a fucking merman disbelieves _her_ I have to answer a bloody shell, because you lot couldn’t stay away from the damn water!”

“Merlin?” Arthur said.

“WHAT!”

“Thank you.”

The warlock deflated, the anger going out of him at the simple acknowledgment that had for so long been missing.

“It’s ok. I shouldn’t have been distracted enough for you to try and elope with a mermaid, I knew the risks. Man do you have a bad history with lakes. Probably best we keep you away from them.”

“Aah, Princess has a history with lakes?” Gwaine asked pointedly.   
Merlin smirked, “Oh yes, he even tried to elope with Sophia once, and I ended up fishing him out armour and all. Told him I knocked him out with a piece of wood, and he believed it for a good couple of years.”

"That, is a long time to believe an obvious untruth."

Merlin snorted, "You believed I was without magic for longer."

Gwaine shifted awkwardly, "Uh, no. Not exactly. I just thought it was much smaller magic."

They clambered up the bank, which being so close to the water was far less barren than much of the rest. It was all of five minutes before they heard a ringing horn pierce the air from the direction they had just left.

The knight sighed,"Come on, I think you are being summoned Emrys. The princess and I will keep well back and _not_ look at the water this time."

Merlin groaned "You'd better bloody not. Seriously, you make me talk to the aquatic equivalent of a teenage girl again and I might just let them take you. _You I_ can be sure they'll bring back and abandon. No knowing with the royal clotpole."

"Indeed. Indeed there is not, Merlin," Gwaine dropped to a crouch at the very top of the bank, "Arthur, sit your arse down, we'll stay here for a few minutes, and charge in swords drawn if it looks like he needs help." Merlin reached the edge of the deep part and sighed. Waiting there and significantly bigger, was a heavily bearded merman. Muscled, with dark grey eyes and a dappled green grey tail. Face stormy and jaw set, he did _not_ look like he was there to chat casually.

"Emrys." Well at least _this_ one recognised him on sight. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for my daughter. Purple hair this year, a little highly strung, listening skills of a clam?" His tone was more exasperated than _angry_ but Merlin had no doubt that lying to him would go down as well as lying to Arthur about his men.

"Uh, the only mermaid I've seen today is Isla sir."

Merlin felt rather out of his depth speaking to the parent of a creature of the old religion, he'd never actually met a family of them before. "That's her." he said grimly.

"I didn't realise she was out without permission. Or so young really." Merlin felt some guilt at his complicity in her disappearance.

"Of course you didn’t, you can't even be 80 yet yourself." He stated matter of factly as though that explained all.

"Actually my two companions and I have less than 80 years between us."

He looked somewhat surprised. "What are you doing out unsupervised? Don't they care for your safety at all? And what was the triple goddess thinking putting children little more than fry in charge! Little wonder there has been such chaos! Very well. In light of that information I shall forgive you for the slips of self control and be more accommodating in future." He sighed. "I rather suspect I should be relieved there has been so little damage. Speaking of damage, my daughter. The imbalance and change in the Magic - don't panic young one, it is a good change - has her excited. I wish to find her before she gets herself into more trouble than she can get out of."

Merlin looked guiltily aside, "I thought she was supposed to be out. She tried to 'collect' the Once and Future King." Her father palmed his face then, "Good grief, _tell me_ he got away."

"Yeah, the prat's fine, staying away from the edge this time. I was not impressed and the short version is I made a deal with Isla. No collecting or hunting humans, for me answering a shell… and gave her a job. She is to spread the word about rules regarding humans and that Albion is now under my protection."

The merman nodded thoughtfully, stroking his seaweed beard."Perhaps a job will keep her out of trouble. Did she forget how humans work again?"

Merlin frowned,"Is that common?"

"Only in the young ones. 25 years is hardly enough for _u_ s to forget, but it's long enough for a first century. They see few enough anyway. I'll speak to her, _and_ the others. When I am not looking for a rogue girl I shall meet with you properly to renew the treaties, but for now the peace holds Emrys. Give my greetings to Kilgarrah when you next see him. We have our disagreements, fire and water after all, but he has always held my respect and I was grieved at what was done to his home. My heart is glad to see it being restored."

"Who should I tell him sends word?" Merlin asked curiously.

"Tell him the Lord of the the seas around Albion. He will understand." The merman winked at him, "And I'll talk to Isla about working hours. Save you misuse of that _shell_ she gave you."

Relief flooded Merlin, " _Goddess, thank you!_ No one ever thinks about that!"

"No. They don't. That's not just a human thing either." The Sea Lord rolled his own eyes.

"You're Emrys, you do the mind hearing thing, yes?"

"Yeeeees" said Merlin cautiously.

"Good. If we need to speak, you will hear the horn that way. Easy to tell who is speaking to you then. Don't worry, I barely have Time to track recalcitrant daughters, let alone harass men on the land." He frowned.

"Will you catch up with her?"

Ah laughter like crashing waves startled him, "You doubt me? Ah, little one, I have been racing in these parts for longer than you would believe, she has no chance, though I may allow her the day if she really is following your instructions when I find her. I can see the North men in less than a day if I wish, not that I do often, but we all have days of not wishing to be found. Don't we."

He waved at the wryly smiling Merlin, "We do indeed. Good luck my lord, in your pursuit."

"Until we meet again Emrys. I wish you well in your own endeavours."

The man flipped over and disappeared, leaving a visible wake that had been absent when Isla left, and Merlin stood shaking his head.   _“You and your kinsman will very soon need fuel to burn, consider this my contribution to restoration of this place Lord Emrys”_ Played in his mind, and with and immense wave, more seaweed the Merlin had ever seen was thrown up in piles about him.

Stepping away he walked back to Arthur and Gwaine. "Well, I feel more optimistic about that one being listened to. Shall we try again to leave?”

Arthur looked up at him seriously. “No Merlin. There was one more thing you needed to do before we leave this place. While you were talking to king fishy over there Gwaine and I were considering the lay here, and both agree about the most likely place for a settlement. Off the floodplain, but close enough to  the water for convenience; there’s a rise over there, look west, that is sheltered from the prevailing wind going by the direction the trees grown in, with a clear path down. If we’re right, then you can rest easier tonight, and so can their spirits.”

Merlin looked back to the ridiculous mound of seaweed and understood. “He knew what I needed.” He murmured, aloud he agreed with Arthur, clapping him on the shoulder, and nodding gratefully to Gwaine.

“Well, my watery friend there has left us what we need to fuel a pyre, and I believe his hearing was better than we thought. Might as well take some with us on the first trip up. He knew this place as it was.”

Gwaine followed them down, picking up a massive amount and making a disgusted face, this stuff doesn’t smell pleasant. “It’s a damn sight better than the other part.”

“Sorry Merlin. Maybe it improves. At least the folk would recognise it.”

Arthur walked in Silence, hyper aware of every movement and sound. His father had done this. He wasn’t even here but the blood of every victim was on Uther Pendragon’s hands, and he could no longer blame magic folk for fearing he was the same. Couldn’t wonder if they were just being paranoid. This reality was what Hunith had hidden Merlin from. What Gaius had tried to hide from both of them. Perhaps even out of kindness. Some of the time; because Arthur _did_ feel some abstract sense of responsibility. If he hadn’t been born, these people would never have died. Or would a different event have one day led Uther to violence. He didn’t know.  

Merlin knew before they got to it that his friends had guessed correctly. The chill in the air was the same. The oppressive darkness that was felt rather than seen, like a blot on the landscape. This time was different. Yesterday, with Gaius had been a joint grief, both of them having suffered, and been oppressed by exactly that. This time, it was with two people he wanted to build the future with, taking practical action, facing the real victims of such brutality, and taking responsibility for healing the torn and traumatised communities. A closure of that chapter.

He saw where the wide entrance had been, and some of the posts for a trackway still remained. Gwaine and Arthur both stopped there. “Go on, you first. It’s you they’d welcome.”

Merlin gulped, and stepped over the threshold, unable to disagree with them.

He laid down his armful in the centre. “There’s no ditch here Merlin.” Said Gwaine softly at his shoulder.

“No.” He breathed. “But there’s a midden. There’s always that.”

Arthur focused on not emptying his stomach as Gwaine nodded tightly and scanned the area as though it was a village he arrived in looking for the local tavern or a spare floor.

His voice was harsh as he nodded to a smaller mound not far away. “Seems like an awful lot of shells concentrated in one place so far up. You think you’re ready Merlin?”

Merlin snorted, “Can you ever be for something like this? They didn’t burn the place and risk an escape, the huts are empty; c’mon.”

Gwaine’s voice was flat as he turned to Arthur, “Princess. Let’s put the past to rest. Show ‘em you mean what you say about peace.”

Arthur’s tone was equally empty when he answered, “Thank you Sir Gwaine. I grasp the significance.”

Gwaine nodded, lips pressed together and smacked his king on the shoulder, Merlin walked silently round, he could see the white of what he knew was too big to be shell.

“We were right Gwaine.”

“I’m sorry Merlin,”

The warlock shook his head, “You’ve nothing to apologise for. You’re here now… and they’d have welcomed you then. I knew what Uther’s men did with us. I've seen it. I don’t know why it still throws me.” He sighed, “Let’s do this.” and he very carefully picked up the first skull, carrying it gently up to the knoll.

Arthur couldn’t stop the shaking as he picked up the fragile bones he knew belonged to someone  young. They followed in Merlin’s footsteps silently, until there were far, far too many silent accusation laid out side by side, and the warlock was angrily brushing at his face. Arthur  wasn’t, only ignoring the wetness. “Merlin? We need more fuel. Can you bring some from the shore? Gwaine and I are at risk of doing something stupid that we can’t afford. We can continue here…”

Arthur still looked grey, and Merlin knew that the exercise had done something for Arthur's understanding that words never could. His servant nodded, the Prince was right, and  the few minutes alone would help.

As Merlin disappeared Arthur lost the battle against nausea seeing the tiniest body yet, and felt relief that that one hadn’t been Merlin’s. “Gwaine. I need… I need you to carry this one. The woman wouldn’t wish her babe carried by the son of Uther Pendragon. No matter what my motivation it would be… disrespectful.” His knight didn’t hesitate, keeping his voice low, “And that there is why people follow you, why they trust that you will be different. You care, when it matters.”

Merlin walked back to them trying to put some order to his thoughts, and found his friends laying out the people of the village with as much respect as they would show knights and his throat ached.

Arthur seemed to sense him, and turned. Given the situation, Merlin had decided just to float what he couldn’t carry up behind him. A small part of him felt it was an act of some defiance, proving that even at his most brutal, Uther Pendragon could never crush Magic. It would always survive somehow.

Arthur didn't even blink at the display, "Merlin. No one will ever live in this place again. Will they?”

He looked around the place and knew the answer in his heart. “No Arthur. This will become a shrine, no one will live here again."

“Then I think we should strip the roofs- hear me out merlin. I do not wish to desecrate their memory, but this- this is a tomb, not a home. We need more fuel to do this properly, and I don’t want to touch the new growth, it would be wrong. Even I can see that.”

Merlin looked at the massive pile of weed behind him, it would catch and burn quickly, but Arthur was right. There were just too many without it. He forced himself to breathe evenly.

“Alright. Then let’s do it properly, and I’ll have Finian come out and mark it with warnings and protective runes at sunrise tomorrow.”

There were few words exchanged as the men worked, more out of respect than any other factor. Arthur was honestly shocked that Merlin was including him at all.

Finally satisfied that it would work  the three stood back, Gwaine and Arthur looking towards Merlin for a signal. “This will never happen again. Let this place stand as a testament to the history of our land and a symbol. We will be _better_ than this, and fight against oppression and injustice. Always.

He spoke a blessing that neither man beside him could understand, but Gwaine wrapped a hand around Merlin’s own as he raised the other and shouted with his eyes liquid gold; “sæbát bælfýr mæst!”

The pyre burst into flames, far hotter than any similar that Arthur had been at, it was as if he could feel the rage, the pain and grief pouring off with the heat, and pushing away the influence of his father he allowed himself to cry. For the injuries dealt to his people, for not knowing, for accepting his father’s teaching and following it so long; for his friend, for Morgana, even for Gaius.

It was a long time before the flames died back to something smouldering.

Gwaine suspected there was something unusual in the seaweed, but it didn’t really matter either way. Arthur’s hand rested on Merlin’s shoulder, despite his concern about how low the sun was dipping. “Let it be known that the Once and Future King and Emrys are rightfully come.” Rolled a ringing voice from behind them. All three jumped and turned around to see the piercing eyes of the one claiming Queenship. “You passed the test King Arthur. I am glad. Go in peace, my people knew those that you saw to their rest, we will guard the pyre until it dies, then _I_ will leave. I doubt we shall meet again King Arthur. Emrys- well, it is impossible to say with such lives where we shall be taken, I take my leave of you, go, there is much to be done. This place and the humans are safe now.”

Merlin couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so tired and was more grateful than ever for Camelot’s use of horses for so many journeys. They were all sweat covered, smeared with ash and soot, with mud to their knees and various skelf even in calloused skin. Merlin without even his neckerchief.

When they had left the glen behind them Arthur turned to Merlin slowly, somberly, “Merlin, I am sorry, but I will need you to draw a bath when we reach Camelot, I cannot explain this to anyone, and it would put you at risk.  After that I want you and Gwaine to have your own and then sleep. Together, apart, I don’t care, just rest if you possibly can. Forget the second Catha, and Percival, they will be there tomorrow. We will still be the coin, the two sides, and saving everyone will still be our responsibility. To do it all well I need you to save yourselves a bit tonight. You'll fight the better for it when I need you to. I don’t want you staying up another night in a row to spend trying to solve impossible problems and working."

Merlin looked at Arthur rather brokenly. "Will you?"

"Today was as much of a shock to me as yesterday was to you Merlin. These things were done at my father's command on the pretext of my mother's death; my birth. You were all girly and _emotional_ about grass, so I _know_ it is better than yesterday, and the whole damn valley looked dead when I saw it, that is- that is scary Merlin. I need to think… And because of who and what you are I need to do so alone. Otherwise all I see is you in their place and that is not constructive. I _need_ you functional, able to think sensibly- or as sensible as you ever get, and you're exhausted right now. In case you haven't noticed so is Sir Gwaine beside you, despite his uncharacteristic lack of complaints. Before discussing the way forward with you, and Lord Geoffrey, I need to gain some clarity myself. I need to be alone tonight, and you need to not be… If this unfolds as I expect, there will no doubt be nights where our situation is reversed. Magic did that- and yet it’s the same thing that’s bringing it to life."

He was correct. Merlin had had plenty of nights where he _did_ need to be alone… and many where he needed not to be and had no choice but to endure it.

"Yes sire." There was no sarcasm in his voice now, simply respect for his King and acknowledgement of the responsibility weighing on Arthur at this moment.

“Just one thing, and it’s important Arthur. _Magic_ didn’t kill that place. Your father did. Not magic. _Poisoning of magic,_ in a sacred place no less _,_ the murder of my family, and a completely _non-magical_ king bent on exterminating it killed the land; and make no mistake Arthur, hate is just as real a poison. The land of Camelot is dying because magic is being bled from it. The people who used to heal, create medicines, who saved lives are gone now, all but Gaius and I- and my Catha friends. Uther’s hate and will to destroy all magic brought us only death, and Magic gave it back life.   
Morgana and I ultimately use the same raw force, as she is a Witch and I am a Warlock, as opposed to being Sorceress and sorcerer; it is defined by how it is channeled. She knows no other way but Uther’s, Morgause’s. He told her she was a monster and she believed it. They took her hatred of herself and redirected it. Made her a weapon. Love changes everything. In a way you are lucky that by some twist of fate it was Morgana who Uther paid attention to, as in sheer power I outstrip her. Had it been me who was tormented and raised to abhor love? I dread to think Arthur. You would never have stood a chance. No one would.”

 “You think you’re that good” There was no judgement in the Prince’s voice, but he’d never seen Merlin actually _challenged._

Merlin’s brows knit, “Not _good_ , that implies skill level… but _powerful?_ Arthur I threw the spirit of Sigan from my body the day I got the spell, without time to practice, with no sleep, or training, at the age of seventeen. With access to a library, Gaius, and a dragon? Fuck Arthur. It’s not prideful boasting, but false modesty on me and Morgana results in deaths. _Other people’s_ deaths. I don’t want that, any more than you do. She doesn’t know who I am, or what she’s felt, but she knows something in the balance of the world has changed, and she never was a patient woman. The merman’s warnings were clear. You have the support of even the bloody _vilia,_ but we do not have time for you to waver in your conviction.”

Arthur swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’m not, Merlin. I keep forgetting just what kind of _scale_ you’re on, but I’m really not reconsidering reversing the laws. This was a stark reminder of what failure truly means for Camelot, and how vital it is to get it right. Whatever else he wasn’t, father was always _certain. Confident._ I’m full of doubt about _how_ to implement these things, of questions. Aaargh!” He threw the closest thing to hand.

“You need a break, and some quiet Princess. Merlin, stop freaking out, it’s not helping. He’s a prat, but he’s not going to go and do exactly what he’s helped clean up today, and you know that. We _all_ need to bathe, eat, and sleep. Sire, you know I think you’re a spoilt ass, so you also know I wouldn’t lie to spare your over indulged ego. In _days_ you’ve forced the council to remove the laws preventing sorcerers graves and passing being marked, removed the penalties for knowing folk with magic or being related to them. You’ve made this one start actual training, and accepted men you _knew_ had magic staying within Camelot’s walls, and gone a long way- albeit in anger- to fixing the gaps in your education. Completely aside from today. I’m not going to suggest you do something stupid. You can’t leave the city tomorrow, but short of an attack, we’re taking you hunting _for real_ the day after.  If I have to drug this mad bastard here to get him to sleep, I fucking will. As he has reliably informed me I have no shame, and thus removed any motivation for me to pretend otherwise. Do what you need to Princess.” He didn’t touch the prince who may as well have been wearing foot-long spikes.

Merlin closed his eyes and sought his centre, “I think… I think it’s time to talk to Gaius Arthur. Not me. You. I’m too involved. I can’t be objective. I’m too used to telling him shit, you- you aren’t. He knows though, and he respects you greatly. More than he holds for me at least.” He couldn’t smile, but he hoped it was enough of a gesture to affirm his trust in his best friend. It came as a shock as a still-spikey Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, apparently trying to uncomfortably put Merlin’s preference for human contact over his own comfort. That he didn’t run screaming when Merlin pointed out that he was very much _not_ a safe pet sorcerer was enough of a miracle for the warlock.  That he was accepting a relationship of sorts between Merlin and _Gwaine_ of all people was astonishing to the man, especially given that _that_ wasn’t exactly legal either. Gwaine calmly reminding the coin spinning madly of how big a difference had already been made, rather than them both focusing on the daunting things remaining, was strangely grounding. A sane encouragement Merlin wasn’t accustomed to.

Arthur looked fractionally less frantic as he looked between them. “You’re right. Geoffrey said Rome wasn’t built in a day. Shall we give Albion the same grace?”

“So, like two weeks? Four? I want a holiday when it’s done you know. At least two days.” Merlin managed to drag up some of his usual attitude.

Arthur huffed, “I’ll think about it.”

“I want enough ale to keep us sane until then.” Deadpanned Gwaine.

“Sorry Gwaine. Camelot does not have that much ale, and importing it would mean explaining why it was necessary.”

“Damn.”

“Damn indeed Sir Gwaine. I doubt that the council could be conned into that one somehow.”

“I bet Merlin could-”

Merlin shoved him, “That’s abuse of one’s powers Gwaine. Ethics. Morals and shit. I’ll give you the proper lectures when I can think again. Sorry Arthur. I know you are serious, and yesterday that place… yeah it turned me inside out a bit. I’ll fix your breakables before I go to bed so you can break them again.”

That raised a smile from the prince, and a light chuckle, “I would appreciate that. Might need redone in the morning I think.”

“Aye, that’s the one thing I’m not short of, bloody housekeeping spells that I can hardly ever use to cheat.”

They the rest of the way in a tense but calmer state.

The stablehand was surprised to see them back looking as though the party had been attacked, but as _good_ servants did, kept his opinion to himself. Merlin was immensely grateful to the prat for once for imperiously ordering Merlin to go ahead of him immediately and draw him a proper bath. He didn’t think he could have managed sorting out the horses as well today. Gwaine peeled off, bowing properly to Arthur, I’m gonna sort the same for us if you don’t mind sire.”

Arthur grimaced, “I can’t send a tub to Merlin’s chambers, much as it’s needed.”

Gwaine agreed quietly, “No, but as a knight I can order one to mine. If you don’t object.”

“See to it Gwaine, I’ll send him there after.”

Merlin managed to organise a bath for the prince with minimal physical labour, and added a tiny bit of magic to the water, but not enough to risk drowning the prince. Stripping off the clothes that would forever bear some sign of the day and climbing painfully into the tub, Arthur looked Merlin over closely. “You look terrible.”

“So do you.” Merlin’s lips twitched and slightly hysterical laughter burst from both.

“Well that was- that was _something.”_

“We met a fairy queen.”

“You befriended a runaway mermaid girl.”

“ _After_ you nearly let her drown you, cabbage head.”

“Sorry about that.”

“S’okay. It’s not like it’s  the first time I’ve kept you from drowning.”

“True. You put magic in my bath again didn’t you.”

“Maybe a little bit. Less though, it’s go cold.”

Arthur hesitated. “I saw there what you and Gaius saw.” He said very carefully,

“Yes.” Merlin knew no flowery words could help.

“I can’t stop seeing it. Them.”

Merlin swallowed hard, refusing to cry again. “No.”

“I’m sorry Merlin. I didn’t do it, but there was a time not so long Iago I might have, there are things I cannot undo.” It was impossible for him to meet Merlin’s eyes as he admitted it.  
“Likewise; but you have gone a long way today towards making reparations. You didn’t order others to face the consequences on your behalf, you recognised their humanity. Even passed a test you didn’t know was being given.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “Did you?”

Merlin snorted, “Please, my life is filled with tests, quests, and painful choices that I am never warned of set by almost everyone else, that frequently conflict with one another. I’ve given up trying to keep track, and mostly try to keep everyone alive and intact without actually breaking destiny and the balance of the world. I had no idea they had some mad idea of us proving ourselves, but to be fair she did also make me strip and bare my soul, so it’s hard to feel much sympathy for you right now.”

The prince considered him pensively, “Are you going to get the official marks they expected?”

Merlin folded his arms as though expecting an attack, “Yeah. I think I _have to_ Arthur, but I kind of- a part of me _wants to._ It feels _right._ I don’t know if it’s a weird Old religion thing, or a magic pulling me thing, or just a _me thing._ Sometimes they aren’t really that different, or overlap, like the Old religion designed me to be a convenient tool at will and sometimes I just don’t work correctly. Do you mind?”

Servant or not Merlin wasn’t asking for _permission,_ but he _was_ curious about the prince’s opinion. Arthur had been raised in a very tightly controlled environment and most things deemed ‘different’ had been demonised. Shrugging, he looked at the pale skin he now knew wasn’t so pale at all, or even just marked by Aredian, and realised something, “These runes, and symbols, you _choose_ them don’t you? They aren’t a _requirement_ that’s forced are they?”

Merlin smiled softly, “No, it’s not forced, there are certain conditions that can be associated with refusal, but it’s largely for practical reasons. I would choose the designs, with some guidance from someone more knowledgeable about nuance.”

Arthur nodded, it would give Merlin a measure of control over what others saw that he currently lacked, and what they asked. “It’s _your_ body. As long as you don’t do anything completely ridiculous or get anything done drunk, stick as many needles in yourself as you like. Don’t challenge me for Camelot. Or get Gwaine’s name inked on you. Otherwise I think we’re good.”

Merlin laughed quietly, “Who would ever tattoo someone’s name on themselves? I’ll be careful. I think it would help gain support from some groups who are unsure of me though to have at least the basic traditional symbols done.”

“Then I guess we’d best take one of your _skilled_ men hunting with us. You can’t exactly have it done here in the castle, can you?”

Arthur smiled properly at the stunned look on his secret-warlock’s face. “Seriously?”  
“Do you think I would joke about this?” He raised a brow at  the man, somewhat less effective when dripping hair was falling into his eyes.

“No; but there are many things that I wouldn’t have believed about my life right now.”

That was fair though Arthur.

“Merlin, I am relaxing in a well earned, pleasing bath. You are disrupting that with your  filthy quest-debris, and stink, and I’m afraid I must demand you go and remedy the situation. Immediately. There is a tub waiting, but for entirely practical reasons it has been placed in Sir Gwaine’s quarters, and you’ll just have to tolerate him since I refuse to have some poor underpaid servant lugging a heavy tub all the way upstairs for _you_ to luxuriate in your own chambers. He’s expecting you. Send boring George up as we agreed earlier. He’s far too boot licky to put up with for long, but he does suffice. Do fix the broken things first though, I think seeing the current destruction may actually kill the man, he has the constitution of a nervous hare.”

Merlin finally registered the devastation they had wrought earlier and gasped, “Oops. I hadn’t noticed.”

A smile pulled at Arthur’s lips, “I’m not sure if that’s due to tiredness or just normal you being oblivious to chaotic surroundings.”

“My chaos is voluntary. Mostly.” He feigned hurt, and waved his hand across the room chanting the appropriate fix-it’s and gratefully walked stiffly to the door, “Goodnight Arthur.” He didn’t wait for a response before leaving, too desperate to feel clean and _human_ again. George was a creature of habit so always easy to find, and looked horrified at Merlin having left the Prince alone. Percival saw him enter the knight’s quarters and smiled knowingly, “The door’ll be open. I’m going to be somewhere else until late. Very late. Maybe even tomorrow. Shield the room will you, when you look less terrible.”

Merlin didn’t bother arguing. He wasn’t sure you actually _could_ engage Percival in an argument, but it seemed pointless anyway. Instead he simply thanked the gentle giant, and tried not to crumple under the hand on his shoulder that shoved him lightly towards the right door. Percival even winked as he left. Merlin doubted he had a shred of energy left to do more than fall into hot water and collapse in a bed, but the acceptance was nice and warmed him in a way he hadn’t known before, or realised was missing.


	49. Chapter 49

****************

49

****************

Gwaine smiled when he saw Merlin standing in the door. He hadn’t expected Arthur to _not_ let his servant go, but he had half expected them both to get distracted for much longer, as they did. That Merlin didn’t bother to knock he considered a small victory; he knew that the man never did before going into Arthur’s chambers, for very different reasons- initially it had pissed the prince off, and they weren’t always friends. Here Gwaine knew that it meant he no longer felt that he _had to_ o or should check first he was welcome. Instead assuming that he was and that Gwaine would chuck him out honestly if he was wrong.

Not knowing how long Merlin would be, the knight had stripped and got into the bath himself while it was still steaming. Unlike Merlin, he couldn’t effortlessly reheat things.

He lazily waved from where he was soaking, “C’mon, shut the door. Unless you _want_ more speculation.”

Merlin shook his head and looked over wryly as he did so, “You mean it isn’t rampant already?”

“It always is Merlin. Poor innocent Lance was defending your honour though. Didn’t have the heart to tell him not to.”

“He should know better already than to try that. Perce knows. I don’t know how, but he made a point of telling me he’ll be out late, maybe all night. Then shoved me at your door.”

Gwaine laughed then, “Man’s not stupid, just quiet. Sorry mate but I don’t think I’m going to be much use for more than warmth tonight, I’m fucking wrecked, but you look at least as bad. I haven’t said anything. Never did ask, do you want me to deny it if those old women ask?”

Merlin snorted, "It’s the knights. I don’t exactly advertise my flexibility, but it’s something of an open secret, at least with a couple close to Arthur. Same’s you. Now budge up, or I _won’t_ reheat the water.” It took some reshuffling and contortion but Merlin managed to fit his gangly self into the bath without forcing Gwaine out of it first.

“Don’t drown me. I’ve no idea how Eileen did it, but I will come back and trail the pair of you if you do.”  
“After _preventing_ the pair of you drowning earlier? Seems a pity to ruin my hard work.”

“Maybe. I can’t say I’d blame you. We didn’t really help being there today.” Gwaine's brow creased.

“No! No, Gwaine. It- you helped. Having you both there, it was… It was _different._ Until now, if something awful happened, or I had to deal with something like that, I was alone- always alone. I’d come back and go straight back into work, or stopping the plot, or whatever it was. It was horrible, but it also meant I never had time or luxury to look back or think about it the same way, or have anyone look at me expectantly, or guess what I was really distracted by. Daydreams were just that. Unimportant, even if they were. Now…”

“Now you feel like someone is watching and that’s exactly what you’ve spent an entire life avoiding.”

“Yeah. But… if I’d been alone, I’d still be watching a pyre in its early stages _now,_ none of you would have any idea, Gaius would tell Arthur I was at the tavern or something, I’d come in in the early hours of the morning, and be punished for being a drunk tomorrow. You’d all see my grief as a hangover. It’s still disorienting to me.”

Gwaine looked at him seriously, “You wouldn’t have told anyone, would you?”

Merlin shrugged, “Maybe Lance, if it was bad enough. He’d have covered and probably told Arthur I was sick.”

Gwaine nodded slowly, “He’s a good man. How long has he known?”

Merlin chuckled, “Since we killed the griffin.”

“We?”

The warlock tipped his head, “He held and thrust the spear and I made it effective on griffins. Turns out blue flames engulfing your weapon are hard to miss.”

Gwaine laughed, ‘One would hope.”  
“Oh you’d be surprised what people miss around here. Or forget,” Merlin frowned.

“Oi, No working right now.”

Merlin tried to move. “Ugh, you know what, this is stupid.” He stood up and gauged how far apart the walls were and calmly spoke, holding one hand over the water, and Gwaine gasped as it widened and lengthened enough for two, though there was no way they’d ever get it out of his chambers. ‘Worth it’ thought Gwaine.

Merlin sighed in relief as he sunk into the water properly.

“Better?” Gwaine looked at his friend in amusement. 

“I don’t see you complaining.”

“This seems like a frivolous use of your magic Merlin, and has my full approval. C’mere, and stop death clutching the cloth.”

Merlin threw it at him.

“You did well with Mab. You’re really going to stop hiding the scars?”

Merlin frowned, “I made a deal by the Old religion. It’s not the kind you just break, it will always hold you to your word. Yes, I meant it, but I’m terrified, not least of people noticing if they have ‘appeared’ suddenly.”

“Merlin, no one you haven’t slept with is going to notice _that,_ and Mab did leave you the freedom to cover the ink at least. _"_

“I suppose. At least I know you’re not about to run away screaming.” Merlin said, letting some of the aches be soothed by the water as he washed away the dirt, and Ash, and sweat.

“Yeah, doesn’t really make sense to run away when you see manifest proof of someone’s courage and determination. Scars aren’t some badge of victory like Leon thinks, but neither are they something to be ashamed or embarrassed about, they’re just another part of you.” 

Merlin leaned back, “Do you mind if I add magic to the bath? It feels wrong that Arthur’s should be better than mine with _that."_

"What are you waiting for?"

Gwaine saw Merlin blush lightly and rolled his eyes. "I like magic. Have missed it in Camelot after travelling around, there’s always corners and I had my own disappearing to do from time to time. I'll always want to see, no hiding, alright? Not here." With the magic added to the water there was a huge improvement as muscles loosened, and he felt more refreshed. Merlin jumped when water was poured over his head without warning. "It had seaweed in, I'm not sticking that stuff in my bed for the sake of saving a few minutes, especially given how it got there. Properly clean before you can collapse on the bed."

Merlin groaned as Gwaine worked the soap through his hair and mumbled "Want yours done?" Gwaine shook his head, smirking at the reaction, "You were late. Already done mine, you’ll have to save that for another night." 

"Then do you mind me getting rid of the water? Otherwise I think it might be your turn to stop me drowning, I don’t think my limbs work anymore." 

The knight nudged him gently, "I won't leave you to drown. You're the only one who can cook edible food."  Merlin sent him a mock glare. It wasn’t true; Percival could cook. The rest of them had a basic grasp of what wasn’t poisonous, but no clue how to do anything fancier than that, forget seasoning.

 Merlin told the water to go and slowly climbed out, managing the three steps to the bed before flopping onto the bed. Far bigger and better than he’d been accustomed to until very recently, but at this moment he was quite certain not even Kilgarrah’s shout could wake him. If it did he wasn’t going. A mostly dried Gwaine rolled him over and pulled the blankets up over them, draping an arm over Merlin and both were asleep before Merlin could question it.

Gwen waited. She knew that Merlin started work early, but she still woke at dawn from a lifetime of service, so had brought down the first set of clothes Arthur commissioned, the ones that all the materials had been ready and waiting for. No one answered. Merlin being gone at night was never a good sign... It usually meant her helping Gaius patch him up, or a plot against Arthur… or Camelot. Mostly Arthur. 

Constrained by the rules of court she did _not_ curse as she may once have done, but counted to ten, and considered what to do. She could hardly be angry at the man; she never tried to grab what they had jokingly referred to as ‘breakfast’ together before work since she became a courtier. He’d no reason to expect she might visit anymore… or to answer if she did. It wasn’t a comfortable realisation.

It was too early to take them over to Arthur’s chambers as the prince would likely still be asleep, and he had been rather short tempered with most of them recently, especially those with anything to do with Uther. 

There was a time she wouldn’t have had to wonder where Merlin was or if he was likely to be in someone else’s chamber, if there was a ‘friend’ she’d have known already.

Now she found that she was frustratingly in the dark, and that was not a comfortable feeling, there were a couple of the knights he was close to, but she hadn’t quite realised it extended to sleeping over- if it did. 

Sighing Gwen decided she’d have to try again later, No-one would appreciate her waking Gaius earlier than necessary, and she wasn’t sure what to say to Hunith. Last time they’d spent together, both had ultimately been of equal status, Morgana had been _helping_ them, she and Merlin had been closer, and there were no men. Returning to her own rooms she decided to finish the next garment instead of waiting with no guarantee the man would return, or what state he’d be in when he did. It left her plagued by curiosity though. It always had when he left, turned up as though he’d never been gone, and had no tales or souvenirs except injuries. She’d always hated that Arthur didn’t seem to notice those, but he was the Prince, even the servant who had on occasion pointed things out to him and scolded him had limits to keep.

Merlin didn’t count.

Arthur was not asleep. He hadn’t been to bed that night at all. The day before had been eye opening, and he knew it was a fraction of the whole, he really had thought he’d understood. The lists had been horrifying, and he _knew then._ Seeing was another thing entirely. Acknowledging responsibility and realising that it was not neatly confined to the courtyard in his father’s castle with the occasional execution. Or his periodic raids, which Arthur had disliked, questioned even, but still obeyed. He used the forests to find peace, and others used them to desperately try and avoid notice. 

He _knew_ children died in the Purge, even if they hadn’t been ‘executed’, it was illegal to take in the child of a sorceress. No infant or young child would survive long alone. Merlin might not have fully realised yet, but Gwaine definitely did, had in his own way _lived_ it. Had the children in the dead valley been spared they’d have starved, or been picked up by the worst kind of traders who _knew_ where to find the vulnerable. There had been naive children come to plead in his father’s court for mercy, or relief for younger siblings, and died for it when he found the reason for their destitution was a related sorcerer. Unlike many kings, Uther had been happy, even keen, to help out those others who paid what taxes they could and had a bad harvest. It had pleased Arthur that his father acted to save peasants when they could, and yet it was suddenly so ridiculous. Even then Uther had been happy to have Merlin die from drinking poison, or given to Valiant, or other visiting nobles for their own twisted ends. Staying up hadn’t really helped, only forced him to consider more than before. How much had Morgana worked out that others had missed he wondered. Merlin and Gwaine called her a Seer, so exactly what did she _See?_ He couldn’t remember. Arthur had never really listened to the ramblings about nightmares of a young girl, even one he cared for, grieved for. They were only dreams. Literal dreams didn’t come true.

When she woke screaming, and alone. Why? Had she watched the truth of Uther’s campaign? No wonder the girl had become unstable! Had she seen his own worst actions to be so afraid of telling him her fears? Or was it his acceptance of Uther’s ‘one major blindspot’ and refusal to openly challenge the king about it. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t _care_ , but that he accepted there was such a thing as necessary evils to protect the majority of the people from a minority who posed a serious threat. It never occurred to him that he was reinforcing her own belief that _she_ was a threat, a danger, a _monster,_ Merlin had said. Morgana had never heard another choice than to be a weapon. He couldn’t forgive her attack on Camelot’s people, but he forgave her the _treason_ and attempts he now knew she had made on his father’s life. Hell, if he’d known then what he knew now he’d have been her alibi or accomplice if he wasn’t guilty of regicide himself. 

The previously fixed breakables lay in shards again. 

That he had been allowed to help in creating the memorial was a wonder, and he wondered how painful it had been for Merlin to watch, and yet it was healing in a strange way. Between the waves of self loathing and anger, Arthur saw that he had been allowed a place on hallowed ground. Been actively involved not in covering the actions and evidence of his father’s genocide, but in creating a memorial, a place he suspected would come to serve for those who would never be found, or had no one left to remember them.   
How would things have been if Morgana had been honest with him, if anyone had been honest with _her._ They might have ruled together. If either could ‘learn to share’ as Merlin had put it; he thought he was doing rather well with that actually. Merlin was still _his,_ and even if he was ignoring it, he doubted Merlin had missed the Queen’s ‘soulmate’ slip either. If it stopped him being sacrificed, Arthur wasn’t going to complain. It could be worse. He’d met most of the princesses. It could definitely be worse. 

While Gwaine’s lack of possessiveness towards any bed partners had puzzled Arthur as much as most of the knights, it might just work to his advantage with Merlin. Trained to analyse the practical aspects, and implications of any romantic attachments or relationships, it was natural for Arthur to do so now; he suspected Gwaine did something similar for very different reasons. Arthur knew exactly what he could and couldn’t offer, and what he was and wasn’t willing to accept. The children of kings were traded in contracts that set things out explicitly, and their value weighed like cattle in a market. He had no doubt that Gwaine had seen it up close as a child and rejected as thoroughly as possible. Having heard his views previously, he was well aware that Gwaine saw it as no better than buying a woman for sex, but far worse as it bound them permanently, and did not require the consent of the girl involved. Merlin shrugged off the rules he considered silly, but Gwaine openly condemned them as nigh barbaric; he also understood the Prince’s choices were all too often an illusion trapped as he was. There was a reason he’d never let them catch him, and it wasn’t _just_ a dislike of nobles. He held his own in Court despite the gossip, he enjoyed his ale and mead, but he’d never challenged a visiting Lord without good cause. His early education was good enough to rival Arthur’s own and included topics that had been barred from both Merlin and Arthur, granting him some advantage. He was an idiot, but not stupid, which neither side of the prophesied coin could have tolerated; certain stresses and frustrations that Merlin couldn’t relate to, Gwaine would recall as unpleasant but not unfamiliar and required by tradition or a visiting ass. He was tempted to try and put coin on how short a period the secrecy of the association between his knight and his manservant would last, but concluded it would be dishonest and possibly unfair.

Merlin was a good man, but inexperienced in anything that drew attention to him; skilled in redirection, and though he’d hate it being referred to as such, manipulation. He had to be to survive. As the focus in a formal discussion? Arthur had his doubts. That  was a very different game to speaking to a small group in a ‘safe’ environment. It was clear that some part of him still feared the pyre and the loss of those he loved, even after Arthur had started to change the laws. He understood better after today, unlearning that terror wouldn’t be easy, and in council the power hungry should never get claws in your weaknesses. _Emrys_ was powerful, influential, and Arthur desperately needed to keep him grounded.  
Not something he could always do, and not something he would always understand _how_ to do. He’d still been shaped by Uther, and brought up to the king’s values, was still a prince, with all the entitlement attitude and expectations that went with that. Even if he _could_ do it, the majority of the time, he was not free to do as he wished, and had to deal with other situations before attending to people he cared about. Arthur had always known that, and that he _had_ to always set aside the one for the many. He had been taught to reduce a person and their life to hard data, a value and a necessity; Merlin never had, and simply couldn’t do it. Arthur loved and hated in equal measure that he forced Arthur to see the individual person.

 Emotional support and listening was not _his_ strong point.

 Nor was there any way for Gwaine to fully appreciate the sheer weight and pressure of being responsible for the fate of a kingdom, the lives of each man, woman, and child, who you would likely never even meet. The horror and desperation when you _didn’t_ have the answers necessary and yet had people looking expectantly towards you in good faith. The feeling when someone died for you, or in our name; one you loved or one you never knew who was still willing to have faith. Arthur could understand and empathise with all of that. Knowing that Merlin offered the same support, solace, and wisdom was almost overwhelming. Thinking about it, it was bordering on miraculous there hadn’t been _more_ damage. It was hard enough to make good decisions, wise decisions, about such things when he had been groomed from infancy to do so, challenging even with advisors and records to consult. Merlin was a _farmer._ A farmer, and a servant, and had been offered no training whatsoever in leadership, or making such choices. He could even forgive freeing the dragon in light of the rest- because yes, once he realised that Merlin was a very powerful warlock, the last dragonlord, and on first name terms with him, it wasn’t _that_ difficult to figure out. There seemed to have been solid reasons for the rest of his actions, and Arthur wasn’t ready to hear the details of that one. Might never be now. 

Between them though, Arthur was confident he and Gwaine _could_ keep Merlin from spiralling. 

Arthur was also absolutely certain that keeping Emrys Safe, and working with or through him was vital to establishing lasting peace. If someone killed Emrys, especially if they did it ‘for Arthur’s sake’ it wouldn’t hold. If he held the position of a leader of the Old religion, or Druids, or Catha, attacking _him_ would be to attack them _all._ Exactly the same as if someone killing or harming Arthur would be regarded as an act of war and offence against the kingdom of Camelot.

Merlin appeared not to have worked it out yet, so Arthur had to hope that _meeting him_ would be enough to convince any others that no-one could actually call the warlock to heel effectively. Except for his mother. Perhaps spending time with the crazy servant-dragonlord-warlock-highpriest-peasant idiot would convince them of the futility of trying to _stop_ him careening off or disappearing. Or maybe there would be less of that now. Arthur really, really hoped there would. That he’d at least take someone or tell them where he was going.

Working out what to do about his father wouldn’t wait long. Rumours spread quickly, and there would be speculation from nobles within a fortnight of Uther’s full absence from court. Arthur’s hand went to the fading bruise on his cheek. He had been acting as a temporary regent, intended to hand the power back over when he’d taken up the mantle. He had to move to make it permanent now, and the only practical way was on health grounds. If he did so on grounds of 'illness' they may expect a recovery. If he claimed 'injury' the council would want proof, or an investigation into how it happened. Beginning a rule by placing every close king and chief under suspicion was a good way to start a war. They had enough of that. Subterfuge, or perhaps lifting the veil of lies would require cooperation from Gaius and Lord Geoffrey, but it was that or have Gaius announce that he had been treating the King for years to prevent deterioration of an existing condition. Arthur just had to work out which would be less damaging. Should he admit that for years they had been ruled by someone unstable? People had known and gone along with it? That could ultimately entail dissolving his court. Corruption was always present though, and at least right now he knew what type it was. There was a good chance any cast outs would run to the next king along if they sensed their position was unsustainable. With any and all information in their possession. After turning it over for far too long and ending up with more problems than solutions he decided that consulting Gaius had to be his next step. Whether he wanted to or not.  
Gaius had hurt many people but deserved at least to know the second village lay at peace now… And receive an apology from Arthur for his actions and words over the years. Whatever he did to remove Uther without execution, he’d need the support of the Court physician. Either in truth or lies. Both of which Gaius used frequently in court

Then he needed to speak to his council. 

Not his father's council, or the court, but _his_ council. Merlin was right. The round table was _his._ To his knowledge uncompromised, and with the support of at least five others- well four _without Merlin,_ but he was overdue a seat, they had spare.

The pre dawn light told him that it was too early to summon any of them, and he doubted even Merlin would greet him with cheer if he used his position to march into Gwaine's room on this particular morning.  
Actually he suspected that would precede several days of _polite Merlin_ that was only noticeable to those close to them, and made him squirm to his core, with nothing to yell at him for. He’d end up _hunting_ away from the castle with _polite Merlin_ and the thought of that made him shudder. Gwaine would drag him away anyway because it would actually be his own fault. For the sake of a couple of hours it was _not_ worth it.

Plus, he really didn’t want anything unnecessary casting a shadow right now over the rare good parts. 

Thinking about the strange triangle they made and how it might work pushed his thoughts down a different path; the acknowledgement of the other two he would need a queen. Either he took an apathetic approach and continued to have candidates foisted on him by a moulding council, or he’d have to be more proactive.

He didn’t really want to consider what had been discouraging him from doing so before, there had been enough girls he’d liked, just not wanted to spend _forever_ with. He knew which of the _suitable_ candidates he couldn’t stand, and the ones he could were a very short list; then the _unsuitable_ one he actually had a connection with. Except that she also seemed unsure about whether to commit to _him_ or pursue Lancelot, and an unstable queen was taking a risk. Well, _bigger_ risk.

Mithian and Elena then, he’d invite each for a diplomatic visit, here this time so that they would notice the subtler changes. He was certain they’d understand and make their own wishes clear, it was one of the reasons he liked them in the first place. Guinivere was closer, and he did owe her an apology for snapping, she had no idea what was going on and he hadn’t exactly told her. He hadn’t told anyone not directly involved. For their own safety as much as anything else, but now Uther was suspicious, and Guinivere was one of his primary carers. One who he had had a very open preference for. Still did really, but his own wishes had had no place in the rebuilding of the city. Neither of them had had much in the way of spare time, and hadn’t prioritised the other, nor had the tension between her and Merlin, or with her between himself and Lancelot centred around her helped. Despite the fact he’d entirely missed the strain between the ex servant and still -servant until now. Which he couldn’t help but question. He was certain it was his fault, but not whether it was due to placing them in a unique position of making one a noble, and keeping the other in his service, both for selfish reasons he could admit to himself now, or whether it was centred around their individual ties to him.  His friend had helped arrange and facilitate things with Guinivere, even seemed happy to do it, but if they were truly two sides of a coin- which he no longer doubted- perhaps he had been more conflicted than Arthur had realised. To ask would be to poke at a hurting spot, so he’d just have to watch it play out. Guinivere might understand best the relationship between the two men, but she also hadn’t been raised in court, where it was almost expected to have a spouse and a mistress. Or two. In Gwen’s world when people wed, there was no space for extras. Would it work? His head hurt. 

His heart hurt. Arthur didn’t want a marriage that was a political alliance, but he also needed a kingdom that was stable.  
Merlin had said ‘someone who could see him’. That… that was what he wanted. It was exactly he wanted. Someone who saw beneath the mantle to the human underneath. He wondered if that was what had drawn Merlin to Gwaine. Someone who accepted Emrys, and all the shit that would entail, but saw _Merlin,_ and told him to sleep or be drugged, and called him on his cockups unabashedly. 

He still wanted Guinivere, but could she overcome seeing him as her sovereign?  
It concerned him how little she’d demanded in answers. In any case he needed to start reaching out to the surrounding kingdoms, and extending his own information network.   
An intensive desire to distract himself was useful for him construct a basic strategy in a couple of hours.

\----------------  
Merlin woke feeling warmer and cleaner than he had for days, stretching and realising he wasn’t alone. Prompting him to open his eyes blearily. Nope. Not his room. Or his new room. He never stayed all night, then memories began to seep through the fog and he understood as an arm tightened around his waist, dragging him back. “No going, too warm.”  
“I’ve got work Gwaine.”

“Not for an hour or so. Longer if you like. ‘Sides you never did make it up to me for not telling me about the Avalon stuff.”  
Merlin frowned, still slightly hazy from sleep, “I don’t have chicken or apples.”  
Gwaine grinned lazily, “Good, I don’t want apples and chicken. Stay. We won’t make you late, maybe just a little distracted.”  
Merlin laughed against Gwaine’s shoulder, “You are a very bad man, and will get me into trouble.”  
He shrugged, hair in every direction, “No more’n you already get yourself into. If I didn’t know better I’d think you sound-proofed my room from self interest.” He raised an untidy eyebrow.  
“Good thing you do then.” Replied Merlin mildly.

“Fine. Stay at least until the room warms up enough to get up.” Gwaine pulled the warlock against him and growled.

Merlin gave in, and his eyes flashed as he lit the hearth, “Just until it warms up.”  
“You’re no fun.” Pouted Gwaine.  
“I can be plenty of fun with the right incentive. Or the left.” The warlock shot a lascivious look at his knight.  
Gwaine checked Merlin’s face for any hesitancy and smiled slowly. “Prove it.”  
The invitation was enough, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as he pinned Gwaine with magic, without the silence this time, and proceeded to prove that yes, he actually could be a _lot_ of fun and simultaneously warm up the room very effectively. Without even being late for work, even if he did cheat a _little_ to be on time.

\---------

Arthur looked up from his desk as Merlin half danced in with his breakfast and rolled his eyes. “For the love of Camelot, don’t tell me.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Wasn’t about to, but really, _thank you_ Arthur.” Pausing as though considering something, his servant turned back and whispered a spell that Arthur had definitely not heard before. A pastry formed in Merlin’s palm, one of the coiled kinds he liked, and was placed next to the rest.

“Is that safe to eat? Not poisoned or something? You didn’t realise overnight who I let claim you and opt for pastry shaped vengeance?”

“Pastry shaped?... Fine, I’ll have it then! Of course it’s edible. You never noticed before. I can’t carry them with the rest though, because then others would demand them and find out the cook wasn’t making them.”

Arthur raised his eyebrow and folded his arms. “You use magic _for pastries."_

Merlin shrugged, looking at Arthur as though _he_ was the stupid one. “You literally just watched me do it.”  
“The magic you would have been executed for. The still illegal magic. That no one is meant to have here. You use it _for making desserts.”_

Merlin cocked his head, “If I didn’t I’d never get one, but mostly it was for rewarding you on days you broke the indoctrination or had a really bad day.”

“You are unbelievable Merlin, I don’t have the words. I’d send you to the stocks for sheer brazen stupidity, but that would double my work, and there isn’t time. Don’t you dare risk that again. Seriously, that is _not a risk worth taking._ No more using the spell until it’s fucking legal you total muttonhead.”

“What about meringues?”

Arthur sighed. He really _liked_ meringues. “Nope. None of those either.”

“Ah.” Merlin grimaced, “There was a bit where I sort of stopped caring, and then another when I had trouble controlling the increases. No more happiness boost cakes. There are worse things to die for than contentment cakes.”

“Merlin?” Ground out Arthur,

“Shut up?”

“So very much, yes. Shut up, and never do this again.” Arthur glared at the idiot.

“Sooo, if you don’t want it can I eat the thing?” He made to reach for the pastry and grinned as he got his hand smacked away.

“You gave it to me, can’t take gifts back.”

Merlin snorted, of course the prat would eat the last one as he was banned from making a second. He stayed quiet though as he laid things out and went through their usual rituals, long enough that Arthur began to get worried, but when he actually watched Merlin it was apparent that the only visible difference was a subtle peace missing before, less frantic. The energy was still there, tightly leashed and not absent, but somehow less as though he was ready for an attack any second; and then Arthur realised that he wasn’t _expecting one_ any more. Every morning he bounced into Arthur’s chambers, Merlin had been ready, half expecting the game to be up, to be caught. Even in the places Arthur considered safe, Merlin had been ready to have a sword drawn on him, or worse. This wasn’t something _wrong_ with Merlin. It was something _right._ His friend with his defences lowered. Not completely, but more than he’d ever shown the Prince before. Or it would seem almost anyone else.   
This was unafraid, at rest Merlin. One he was quite sure would slip behind another mask when they left the room, until they were in a ‘safe place’ again. Although given he apparently had as many demands on his time as Arthur himself that wasn’t surprising.

Standing ready and apprised of his day’s requirements aside from his own Arthur caught Merlin on the shoulder, “Come on. Walk with me. I have to speak to Gaius, as soon as possible, I’ve waited hours already, you need to speak to the Catha.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked “You’re late.”

Merlin nodded, more seriously than Arthur had expected, “I am, but you were right. I needed to pause, eat, sleep, be calm, and come back to it ready. Thanks. Even if it was not appreciated criticism _then.”_

“Don’t thank me. You are one of my men. It shouldn’t have taken this long to start treating you as one. ‘Just servants’ don’t go into battle, or stop knights from bleeding out, or collect injuries- even ‘first battle wounds’.”

“I get it, you’re a Prat. Better late than never though. Why do you want to talk to Gaius?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Because I need to, and my father is ill, and you told me to.”

“And you listened to me. You were right, I should shut up.”

The prince shot him a sharp look, “Ugh, avoiding it and putting things off isn’t going to make it any easier, just… delay dealing with the problems. At least I know they exist now, and it’s not all down to you and him to provide care to everyone in so many ways.”

Merlin nodded tightly. “I need to make up batches of half a dozen things today, several knights will be almost out of balm, the kids have used up all the arnica we had, we seriously need fresh comfrey, and if I don’t sort the morning after cure deficit someone will die at the hands of a hungover guard.”

Arthur listened to his slightly exasperated manservant, who clearly intended to do both the harvesting, preparation, and distribution, while also doing all his jobs for the prince, training with Gwaine, interviewing the second man, and being at the round table council. With whatever else the day threw at them.”  
“Right, but you’ve got a few more hands now, so wouldn’t Hunith or your friends be able to identify and bring back the right things, even if you need to actually make it yourself.”

Merlin paused, the confusion less this time, “Yeah, they’d know the right thing to harvest and how much to avoid killing the plant and leaving it bare.” He spoke softly, “You know I can do it Arthur, I’ve been both for a long time now, worked for both of you since I arrived. You don’t have to act all guilty.”

Arthur grimaced, he hadn’t known how much time it took until he did, “I’m not, they need the practice for when you can’t supervise and check their every action. They’ll have to earn and build trust with those who they’d have to treat in a crisis.”

If their seen working together now with the physicians being already trusted you’ll save yourself and them time later.”

Merlin hummed an agreement as they got close to the physician’s chambers; looking at Merlin and seeing his reluctance, Arthur knocked, skipping the subtle kind to encourage the warlock who had lived there so long to knock him sideways and open the door. His mother grabbed the knob just as he did so, and Merlin froze, stepping aside. Arthur sighed, but seeing as he was there partly for advice on how best to remove his father from the picture he wasn’t much use for advice on parental conflict resolution.

He could see Hunith try to hide her hurt, but there really wasn’t much he could do to help if healing was to be genuine. Their mistakes had cost Merlin things he could never get back, or change, and it would take time to move past that. Gaius worked with and trained Merlin; they _had_ to find a balance, it had been a little more time. His mother was different. Maybe they could not discuss, but refer briefly to it while hunting. Arthur had lived without a mother, rather than without a father as Merlin had, and was about to sacrifice any relationship with the parent he _did_ have. Regrets were terrible things, as they were both living proof of, and he didn’t want his friend to add another while losing the only remaining parent of their four.

In front of them all, his support was solidly behind Merlin. 'Never let division show openly' he recited to himself as he had about someone else a thousand times before.

He smiled tightly at Hunith. “Do you know where Gaius is, I need to speak to him as soon as he’s available.”

She gestured to the table, "He shouldn’t be long, just went to check some woman over, she slipped in the kitchens, and lost consciousness, panicked husband ran down here shouting and banging. Thankfully someone had told him not to try and move people unconscious or who sustained head trauma unless they were in dangers way. I’m not technically a physician and someone might remember if they see me and Gaius together.”  
Merlin sighed from behind Arthur, “Give me your headscarf mum.” Hunith looked at him taken aback, “Why?” Merlin looked at Arthur hoping the man could read him correctly, relieved by the barely perceptible nod. “Do it, Lady Hunith. If you wish to regain your freedom.” Arthur spoke in the tone that people tended not to argue with, and she decided against it _this time.  
_ “I’m going to need that back son, I don’t have spare with me.”

Merlin ignored her, concentrating his attention on the fabric, the threads that wove together and the weak points of stitches, the threadbare patches where he knew she hadn’t replaced things since before he left. He concentrated on finding the right words. Merlin didn’t want to hide her completely, prevent _friends_ from seeing her, only others from making the link or remembering. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone paying attention. It would do what he wanted though, and she wouldn’t lose it anymore than he had lost his neckerchief until the bloody fae decided they wanted it.  
He whispered over it, feeling the magic sink into the fibres as if he had soaked it in water.

“Here mum. It’ll keep you from being recognised by anyone who’d pose a threat. Lord Geoffrey doesn’t, but it’ll allow you to walk a little more freely. Don’t lose it. Being caught with it isn’t prohibited anymore, but it’s unwise still. Gaius will come back by the market if he’s been called to the kitchens, one of you should follow him with the basket, he’ll carry them back and pay for it after otherwise."

“How long do you expect him to be gone?” Asked Arthur, turning automatically to Merlin, having used him as a second healer for so long, who shrugged “Depends how badly she’s injured, a head injury he’ll want under observation.”

Arthur frowned, “That’s inconvenient.” His eyes dropped to Merlin’s neck and widened, his friend was glaring, “Hunith, you raised this idiot, you have experience in such injuries?” 

Looking at him curiously, clearly noticing something was going on, she answered respectfully, “Yes sire, growing up Merlin had a bad habit of collecting various wounds, and before that I had studied with someone knowledgeable enough to be confident in a basic observation. If he suspects a bleed on the brain or such, that would be different.”

Arthur pressed his lips together tightly, “Then do so, take the basket and find Gaius, you know this place well enough still to find kitchens and market, do not remove the head covering. If it is _complicated_ and nothing can be done by the physician, I authorise the use of the skills of this man.” He indicated Oswald, knowing he had been reliably approved. Hunith grabbed the basket and left swiftly.

Merlin cleared his throat and the prince rolled his eyes, “What now?”  
Merlin looked pained as he answered, “I just want you to understand that like Gaius’ treatments, the other type are not _guaranteed_ to work either. Better, yes, but sometimes the fates are decided, or it is simply _time_ for a man to die and we must let him go. For example if we could save a man’s life, but not what made him _him._ That is a difficult choice, but one physicians sometimes must make. If she still died after he tried to save her, it would not be magic responsible for her death but the injury which had weakened her. If it’s authorised, it must be regarded the same way as any other type of healing. Just men doing their best to refuse death that day.”

Arthur considered what Merlin said, realising that he had rather defined healing by magic as a failsafe, rather than another treatment technique. “Then this time it is authorised, but for future non instant choices, I wish to be consulted until the new laws are fully drafted.

“Yes sire.” Oswald bowed.

“Merlin, now that your mother has left, I believe there are matters you have to discuss with your men. I am going to go and inform my own of a meeting to be held tonight at the round table. “Before or after I leave, Arthur?” 

The prince looked at him as though evaluating whether it was safe to have the man lace shirts, “Before, you idiot. What’s the point in summoning the others if _you_ are skiving? You’re on my council, remember? And responsible for keeping Gwaine in line.” Merlin groaned.  
“I thought I said no to that, you sadist.”  
Arthur laughed, “You did, before you said yes. Trust me, you _want_ to be at this one. Get on and give Cathas one and two their order and work out what you’re doing about your illustrations, then meet me with armour for training if Gaius isn’t available before then.”

He strode out, not giving Merlin a chance to protest.

“Is he always like that?” Came an older voice.

“No. Usually he’s much worse.” but Merlin smiled wryly at the older man, who nodded.

“I see. You are like brothers, bickering, but beneath it loyal. No one else is allowed to badmouth him, except you.”

Merlin cocked his head, “Well, me and Gwaine. I don’t think it would really occur to the others. Maybe Percy, but he is ridiculously calm. Probably learned _because_ of his strength to keep his reactions in check. Anyway, this time Arthur’s right. Take a seat.”

They did so and Merlin joined them. It was odd sitting at his table without it being _his_ table. More unsettling to have his mother’s handwriting on a note by his elbow.

“What do you know of the barren valley.”

“Not to go there.” Said Oswald calmly.  
Finian looked sick, “The magic there is so dark it hurt my soul to travel by. I can’t imagine much remains.”

Merlin ran a hand down his face; “It didn’t. I went there two days ago, and did something that began to renew it on impulse. Then returned yesterday with Arthur and Gwaine to bury or burn the remains of the second village. I need one of you to go out to place warnings and wards, perform any necessary rituals. I’ve done what I can, restored the water, saw and treated with Mab, and the goddess indicated satisfaction with our treatment of the first camp on the first day. There was one thing she asked though that I do not wish to do again the same way. She asked to see my marks, in ink, and the only marks I have are scars. I know that you both know the skill of tattooing, and understand the runes which may interact. I’m unsure which are appropriate, and which I shall need for the gathering. I do not wish to partake in another exposition based on my pain. You are the only ones I know can do this.”

Both of them looked solemn, the responsibility for what he asked was not small.  
“We can help, but in the end you are the one who must decide. If there is something that does not apply, when done by us, it will cause you harm and be rejected by your magic. Are you certain Emrys, they cannot be undone.”

Merlin looked around his old home, at the closed door, and the living men who offered themselves to him fully.  
“Yes. Yeah, I’m sure, though I’ve no idea which skills apply. I’ve never really trained. Not like the knights do, or in the concentrated way we go through physicians subjects.”  
The men before him groaned. “Then this may be more difficult than I thought. How about you tell me the skills you _do_ know you have then. I know the symbol of your house, which was commonly inked on the Dragonlords, but not _necessary,_ the triskel obviously, and the one for Lord of the Catha, which I am authorised to grant from, well, a long time ago. The witch is not the only one to have visions.”

Merlin shuddered, “Gods I hate visions, they’re worse than prophecies, no wonder then girl became so unstable, the crystal cave was horrific. Taliesin missed the part where it hurt so badly in his explanation.”  
Oswald blew out a long breath, and Finian maintained a carefully blank expression; “I’ll add the appropriate ones for speaking across the veil without tearing it. Also using the crystals, since you came out sane, we won’t use the accent for ‘master of’ but leave it open and if you ever feel that is appropriate it can be added. Continue, Emrys.”

Merlin swallowed, not missing the switch of name, “Well, the cup of life obviously, when I fought Nimue and used it to save Gaius, sorry about her by the way. Your basic animation of snakes, dog statues, that sort of thing. Slowing or stopping time- bending you said, Ozzie. Uhm- The sidhe, they tried to sacrifice Arthur and opened the way to Avalon, so I had to drag him from the lake itself, and kill Aulfric and Sophia, but Mab says that was actually some sort of mercy? I don’t know, seems a weird kind of mercy, but at least _that_ was fast. Yeah, then there was the poisoning thing and apparently I was sleep casting and following Arthur while he was trying to get the mortaeus flower, forgot that, Nimue really was persistent.  I’m pretty good with fire, and elements, calling lightning on demand, but _that’s_ not a habit to pick up. I re-trapped Sigan in the crystal after he possessed me, man he’s a nasty guy, inside his mind? Ugh. I accidentally tied Freya to the lake, that’s one of my bigger regrets- other than Kilgarrah’s actions after I freed him. She’s now the Lady of the lake, though I’ve only seen _her_ a few times.” He sighed.  
Finian’s brow was knit together. “Complicated. Alright, I don’t suppose there’s anyone else like Mab you’ve been chatty with?” He raised an eyebrow at Merlin,  
“Well, there’s Kilgarrah obviously. I don’t know if unicorns count with them being non-verbal. I spoke to the king of the sidhe of Avalon, but he was really pissed off because I got rid of the changeling. I really doubt he’s up for ‘chatting’, unicorns don’t really talk and Anhora’s even less of a conversationalist than Taliesin. The Fisher king was alright, but he’s gone now, since I gave him the phoenix eye he wanted. The water sprites yesterday were talkative enough, and Isla- oh fuck, I forgot the shell, she wants to prove I exist- and her dad, who claimed to be some sort of Lord of the sea or something. I’m not sure if it counts if they don’t stay in Albion, I’m pretty sure they have to do as they’re told by other people or not-people then. Oh, and the ghosts, but they’re friendly enough… so far.”

Oswald gave up trying to hold in the laughter, “Oh, Oh goddess, good luck designing that master, I’m not even going to try. I mean, you could wait, but the core ones need done, we could do it in stages? Otherwise he’s going to be seriously stinging."

“Thank you Waldo, how very helpful of you.”

The younger man shrugged and smirked at him. 

Merlin recognised the looked on Fin’s face of frustration and resignation, “This isn’t going to be a simple job is it?” 

“No; but it _is_ one worth doing right. I’m not going to do it all in one go, Oswald is correct, although I’d be more concerned about infection risk that stinging. Then there’s where to do it, can’t use Camelot. You may not have mastered them all, but you have a wide variety of skills and near infinite _potential._ We’ll need you to decide where a few go, work around that. Most of your kin, if they took their house marks had it done over their hearts, sometimes on their back if that was already used. A few joined the priesthood first. It was quite common for the womenfolk of your families to train with the priestesses. They had to if they were close to the dragons or gifted in telepathy, it could be disturbing overhearing them otherwise, Your aunt likely would have if she hadn’t married Uther, she was an acolyte, but hadn’t taken any oaths so the choice was still open to her.”

“So Igraine- she was trained in runes too? By whom?”

Finian looked up from his parchment, filled with symbols Merlin hadn’t seen before. “By the High Priestess of course. She was daughter of a dragonlord, the Lord of the dragonlords. Overheard even Kilgarrah on occasion. She was one of Nimue’s acolytes for years, I’m not sure if they were more than that, they were close but I’ve no idea if it was romantic or more of a mother-daughter relationship, I didn’t know Igraine well, and unlike Oswald, the young priestesses never held much attraction for me.” His eyes flicked to the door, “At the time, Gaius was more my type. Many of my order choose abstinence to honour those they serve, others choose to celebrate being given life by exuberance and indulgence. Otherwise there’s be fewer Beltane babies.” He winked. “I’m not sure there’s a universal _right way_ to do it. She gives different paths to all of us.” Merlin leaned with his elbows on the table, watching the quick strokes of the quill.  
“So what is the meaning of this one?”

“Ah, that is for balance, dark to light, peace to war, death and life, the seasons in turn.”

Merlin chewed his lip thoughtfully, “And this?”

“Speaker to the other worlds. You have spoken with Taliesin, a man long dead, to the Lady of the lake, the guardian of the gate to Avalon, which no mortal may see. This one here is ‘Emrys’, but I do not know that you would wish to display it yet. It means immortal.”

Merlin’s face remained steady, though his voice was sad, “I know.”

Finian nodded, “Good. That is good, a difficult discovery I am sure, for a young man. Here, this is for dragonlord, and that one ambassador. I could combine it with the worlds speaker one, but that would limit future additions and I believe it would be wiser to have that one separate give you intend to raise Albion. This one is healer. There are different emphases for ‘healer’, and I would not yet add one for humans, your skills there need _a lot_ of work despite your impressive experience with herbal remedies, but for healing the land? _That_ you have control over. The one for skill with time is complicated, at least a session in itself. Here is for warrior. Skill with battle magic, offensive and defensive. Your skill will improve, but you have a high level of use in both. Then over here is for visions, and telepathy, which is part of the gift of dragonlords, they are placed differently, but are useful to make visible in case there is need for silence in battle or escape. Even daily life for assurance you need not wake a young one. This one here is a simplified version of your House. Eyrie. Whatever you’d call it. One of my favourite two, but the other is very like balance, I believe I could turn that into two curled dragons together, bound with the circle.” He smiled, clearly trying to work out a pleasing artistic set up and forgetting for now that Merlin’s real skin was the vellum.

Merlin who felt a little intimidated. It was more than he’d anticipated. “And you want to do all of this _to me?”_ Finian looked puzzled, “It doesn’t have to be me Emrys, it must be someone you trust not to add a weakness to you.”

Merlin sighed, “Sooo not what I meant. I just, I thought maybe a triskelion like all the druids have, or some sort of single thing for Emrys. Not an intricate tapestry situation.”

The older man watched Merlin carefully and set down his quill.

 “I will not force, nor pressure you to accept any against your will, or continue if you demand I stop, you have my oath.” The chill that Merlin knew was the witness of the Old Religion ran through him. “Have a look yourself, tell me which you prefer and we shall do them first. I agree that adding the sign of loyalty to the druids before the council would be wise.”

“And the wolves in this? Why wolves?"  
"You are transformed from ‘Just Merlin’ to accepting your role as Emrys also, and are a vital guide to the Once and Future King.  You don’t have to have them beneath the boughs of the tree, but they apply to you and are pretty. Badly done and ill considered tattoos are against my religion though, so I’ll only do what you approve, and I agree is relevant and applicable to you. I do not delight in causing pain. I have found that those done well bring satisfaction or pleasure to the one who bears them for a longer time. My own all bear a personal meaning and are bound up in memories, but one or two also hide scars, albeit not as impressive as your own.”

Merlin paid close attention to Finian’s words and his draft designs.

“These will need work, it’s only a draft of separate ones.”

Merlin nodded, gulping as he brushed his fingertips over the skin. “I think, I think these. It’s rare for me to have time away from Camelot, and rarer to be able to use that. The augmented triskellion for the druids; the one for my House and dragon for Kilgarrah, Lachlan, and Balinor; and this for balance. From there we’ll see. They are beautiful, they really are, I hadn’t expected that. Honestly I hadn’t expected to ever _want_ any, but I’d far rather have some control and not have to retell the same awkward stories repeatedly… and these will be understood?”

Finian smiled, “By those they are intended for and you require, yes. By your king and strength, no, probably not.”

Merlin chuckled, “Well that’s nothing new. Ok. If Kilgarrah confirms you tonight, I want you to come with us on a hunting trip. Not that _I’ll_ be doing much hunting, but I do need Arthur to relax a bit, and he needs a break from them all. The laws are changing, but it’s been difficult for all of us. Many, many things have been hidden from both of us for years, and it has cost everyone dearly. While he and Gwaine are hunting, you and I, at Arthur’s suggestion actually, will be doing _this._ ” He gestured to the designs.  
"So you are, like us, on rather a tight deadline, welcome to Camelot. If you are doing _This_ today, then Oswald will have to check and set the warnings for the shrine.” He turned to focus on the other man, “You understand how.”  
“I’ve experience, yes. I can perform any rituals required and properly respect the dead.”

Merlin nodded, giving a sigh of relief he didn’t realise had been there. “Thank you. I can’t be absent all the time, people notice, eventually, and I actually do have to be at the roundtable meeting, despite my protests to the contrary, be available tonight Finian, there’s someone who wants to meet you, especially before a needle touches my skin.”

“Always, Lord Emrys.” The younger priest had risen and gathered his cloak and hood to leave by now, and was looking longingly at the racks of plants of multiple purposes. "Oh for the goddess’ sake, just take what you need, want, whatever, and leave me a damn list, I'll replace it. Even if it's on the way back tonight, I know where things grow anyway. Planted my own like any sane person who uses it. It's not like the knights recognise herbs. We've ridden past a couple umpteen times and the only one to even look twice was Percival, but he's also the only other who can cook so I just figured it was that. Hurry up and go before some innocent fool wanders into that place. If you feel magic even slightly it won't be difficult to find the right part of the lower Glen. Don't approach the ridge at the top. I need to check it first." 

Oswald bowed,"Yes master Merlin." 

At least he refrained from 'Lord Emrys', which seemed to take the pair actual effort. With the necessary components he left. Merlin lay his head on the table as he had so many times before, remembering with a wave of melancholy it was not his home now. There was a cough from the door and Gaius entered. "You will always be welcome here Merlin. Even if you do not feel about us the way you did, our care for you is unaltered. If you are working late, or need to use the books, or just want to be with someone. Your mother has lost none of her skills or gentle touch. I have left her to observe and supervise the woman while her husband is at work."

Merlin looked at Gaius, troubled. "Thank you. I am really OK just now, just a lot of information. Arthur needs to speak to you. It seemed urgent. Can you be here if I go and fetch him? We didn't know if you'd be gone for hours." 

"Well yes, without your mother I would have been. I suppose I have you to thank for relaxing her curfew."

"Don't Gaius. That was for everyone's safety. Yours included. I have training and research to do while you have a discussion with Arthur. Lying to him this time won't end well. Go by a truth or death rule and you should be fine. Bye Finian. I'll see you tonight after the meeting."

He left without looking back; looking back was dangerous here. 

It was easy to track Arthur now. Merlin had started cheating and put a tracking spell on him, only with a link to Merlin of course. He'd have to do the same to his other idiot now. He assured the Prince of Gaius waiting for him now, and hoped the black mood would not be worsened by any discussion. He _almost_ made it to the library. Instead walking straight into Gwen. Catching her as she stumbled, "I'm sorry, I guess I should have been paying better attention."

She frowned, checking him over, "No, it was a joint effort of carelessness. I'm not usually so clumsy anymore." 

"It's been difficult for everyone recently." 

She nodded absently. "So uh, how's your mum? I know it's been a while since you've seen her." 

Merlin shifted awkwardly, "I haven't really seen her since she arrived, we've just been so busy. Reassuring I suppose, what with the chaos Cenred’s demise left. Not so many raiders now. The sell-swords all joined up for the immortal army. Only good that came of it." 

Gwen tucked loosened curls behind her ear, "Maybe tomorrow? Is she OK after the journey here at least." 

"Oh yeah, a couple of old friends were passing through and she is tough as old boots." He didn't really want Gwen checking up that much on Hunith for information sharing.

"That's… That's good then. Actually I was looking for you earlier. Some of the things Arthur commissioned are finished and I wanted to give them to you to try on. I haven't done that sort since Morgana so I didn't want to deliver them to him and have it being wrong."

Merlin sighed, seeing the old insecurity break through. Now he'd _have to_ wear them. "Gwen, you were the best seamstress in Camelot, you can't have forgotten everything you did from ten years old. I'm sure it's fine." 

"If you wait here or come with me my chamber's close. Then you'll at least have them, and Arthur won't think I'm ignoring it." 

Merlin sighed, of course Arthur. "Gwen, Arthur doesn't love you for your efficiency or your sewing. I don't think you need to worry about what his opinion of mum clothes is. Believe me if anything goes wrong he will blame me." He winked. I'll stay here and wait for you, there's no point in adding you to the rumours circulating."

Gwen finally smiled honestly. "Oh, it has been in the mix for years. I appreciate your confidence in the past of what you saw. I don't think it will take them much longer, but I won't tell anyone about you two." 

"Gwen?" Merlin growled.  
She smiled, "He's honourable underneath it, and…" He realised what she was looking at and risked tipping her chin up to meet his eyes. "It was a long time ago, and there wasn't really a reason to hide it after Arthur and Gwaine noticed. Promise you won't go away and worry about things you can't fix."

She couldn't help the tears that gathered. "You could've told me." 

"I told you I was in disguise, didn't I, and not ordinary." He grinned cockily. 

She paused and considered him. "You told me a lot of things."

"Always talking, me, Arthur complains about it frequently, but then he complains if I don't, really you just can't win with prat. 

"I should have paid better attention." She reached out to touch the scar and drew her hand back. "I know things are… Are different now, but if you're hurt you can come to me. I won't tell anyone."  
It warmed Merlin to hear it. He wasn’t about to start going over again but it was better than the awkwardness they couldn't quite seem to bridge since Gwen became a Lady. Titles meant nothing to Merlin, but raised in the heart of Camelot the rigid stratification was what Guinivere knew; and what all her other servant friends knew. In an odd way, his continued care and willingness to speak to her unnerved her in a way she couldn't express. 

He forced himself not to answer sarcastically, but couldn’t hold back the eyeroll, "I am not hurt. I am happier than I have been for a long time. Thank you for the clothes Gwen, I am sure the prat will be less ashamed of being seen with me now. Go, I won't trip you again, just need to take a message to Lord Geoffrey before training." 

"You're still calling it 'training'?" She raised a sceptical  eyebrow. 

"Until the day I die Gwen. You win 'ogling' only if someone is drooling." 

"Well enjoy your poor, suffering test of endurance." She smirked, without the evil or menace of Morgana’s, Merlin suspected he was the only one to miss that though, the edge of danger and darkness. Maybe he did have thrill issues.

He let out an exaggerated groan, "Ugh, Arthur's in a bad mood." 

"Ah. I'll get the balm and bandages ready then, but clothes first, stay here." _Everyone_ knew Arthur used the Merlin- dummy for stress relief, even the ones that liked them. She dashed off in the direction of her chambers, leaving him no choice but to do as she asked, wait until she returned carrying a far bigger bundle than he had been expecting, he managed to sound genuinely grateful as he thanked her. He did after all _need_ some new tunics, and to stop destroying them.

"Bye Gwen." He reached the library and slipped in, pressing his forehead to the closed door. Maybe Gwaine's day was going better than his and Arthur's.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very hesitant about posting this one.

Gwaine’s day was not going better. Not exactly _worse_ , but Lancelot was eyeing him suspiciously every time he saw him and Percival kept smirking, enough that Gwaine wondered just how dodgy Merlin’s magic got when he had a point to make. Not that he was usually the shy and retiring type, but there were better ways to admit to this particular liaison. He wasn’t particularly eager to hear Lance’s inevitable ‘don’t hurt him’ talk, Kilgarrah and Arthur had that covered. Or to invite Leon’s judgement quite so soon. Merlin’s choice in partners might be open to some of the knights but Gwaine wasn’t one to out people, that was _their_ business. He honestly didn’t mind being someone’s secret, unlike most, but Merlin was too close to Arthur to have that option, there were always people watching. 

The minor irritations were easy enough to ignore until Arthur had appeared, looking like he’d had a disagreement with the Great dragon, demanding that the knights of the round table be present for a meeting later, offering no reason. Gwaine didn’t need him to and he wondered if it was too early to start drinking; sighing when he realised it would cause problems for Merlin if he wasn’t clearly sober at the bloody meeting. From the instantly serious looks from Lancelot and Percival he knew they had similar concerns about its content and potential reactions of those attending, Leon appeared almost nervous, and Gwaine wondered if he was ready for some proper answers. He hoped so. Leon was a good man and honourable, but he was a man with a past to reckon with over this. Gwaine and Leon had too many differences of opinion, and too many qualifiers of the other’s judgement, so he shoved Lancelot  that way instead with what he _hoped_ was a meaningful rather than a plain sour look. The peasant knight had far more in common with Leon than _he_ ever would, and might connect better.  
Shaking his head he paired himself with Sir Percival to spar, and wait for the possible return of the Princess. Somehow he doubted the prince's mood was likely to be improved. 

Arthur made his way down to the chambers he had stormed into so often to yell at his ‘late again’ manservant, and paused before the door of the physician’s quarters, he could turn back. Walk away. Wait for it to be brought up in council as it inevitably must be. Growling the word ‘coward’ at himself under his breath he swung it open defiantly, slamming it behind him and startling the old man, though there was no reaction from the older Catha. Who seemed too focused on his sketching to notice anything else.

Arthur glanced between them, “Is there a place we can speak physician?”  
Gaius grimaced at the address “Yes Sire, the spare room is _private._ ”  
The prince nodded grimly his understanding, the fewer people involved the better. Merlin _had_ to have shielded his room. He doubted the private man would have wanted nightmares overheard. As for any other activities, well Arthur had no idea. He hadn’t really thought of Merlin as sexual being _at all_ until very recently. Certainly not until after he began to consider his servant had a life outside of his service - at least the type he'd known of _then,_ as his employer. Believing the man went home after doing standard manservant chores rather than out to track witches, or foil plots, or meet dragons, or druids _._

As Arthur sat, so did Gaius, ignoring the flare of pain in protesting rheumatic knees, it almost sparked guilt in him, but he narrowed his focus, refusing to be distracted… and he wasn’t feeling particularly merciful after the previous day.

The prince frowned as he realised there no subtle way to bring it up with the old man _._ “We have a problem Gaius.”

The worn physician raised his brows, “Oh? Only one? I thought we had _many_ to choose from _._ Which?”

Arthur’s lips thinned. “The biggest right now. My father.”

Gaius grimaced, shoulders drooping, “Ah. _That_ problem.” his father’s friend - and wasn’t _that_ a puzzle- looked about as keen to discuss it as Arthur, so for both their sakes he didn’t bother with delicacy.

“Uther has ruled for a long time, longer than most, and I have to question his sanity, because either he is truly evil and in control of the actions he has taken for so long, or he is _not_ in control and is _unsafe_ to rule. Either way he is unfit to wield power as a king. His clear cognitive failure after my sister took control required me to reluctantly take on temporary regency by necessity. In light of recent developments and discoveries it is imperative I make it a permanent situation. He is my father and my own emotions are conflicted about this, but not my _reason,_ and he has made his position clear, openly accusing me of treason and betrayal. In a court session that would be dangerous and potentially compromise me. He always taught me to set aside personal concerns and attachments when making judgements as a king, so that one may be consistent and justice known, uncompromised, and I believe it may be one piece of wisdom to keep. _Uther_ is a very real threat to our stability and recovery, and he has been for a long time. I need to know Gaius. How long has he been taking the tonics you’ve increased and what are they for. Was he injured, or sickened? If it was a badly healing injury one of them would likely remember and the only way they will voluntarily accept the change from temporary Regent to permanence without his input is for _you_ to testify. I want the truth. Then we are going to work out what I am going to tell the council, with minimal deception so there are not things that come back to bite Merlin and I in future. Geoffrey can pull up any appropriate records that might be necessary or useful. Otherwise I will have to challenge him _openly_ and explain why. The council are not entitled to know all the _details_ of a leaders health, only _enough._ ”

Gaius paled, “That is a lot to ask Sire.”

Arthur shrugged and folded his arms, “You can refuse. Either way we _will_ find out. Your loyalty is either to _Me,_ or to _him._ It cannot be both; they conflict in a profound and irreconcilable way.” He spoke honestly and with the authority he no longer felt was borrowed or on someone else’s strength, but was _his_ by right.

Gaius nodded, “You are the Once and Future King Arthur, as Merlin is Emrys. I choose you- both of you. What happened? When we last spoke there was a softer resolve. Conviction, but more patience. Not that I disagree. I do not.”  
Arthur folded his arms, “I saw the valley, and moved their bones; I saw what Merlin has hidden these years by my side, and it will never happen again. To anyone. So, Uther.”

Gaius radiated a deep sorrow, “Headaches. They’re for headaches and help sleeping. There are some sicknesses that cannot be seen from any examination Arthur, he had been in many battles before your mother passed away, and was in many after, in one particular fight with a sorceress he’d challenged he sustained a head injury. You even met her once.  
At first there seemed to be no significant damage resulting from it, barely notable next to others he’d had. A shorter temper perhaps, but nothing particularly alarming that couldn’t be better attributed to the abrupt loss of his wife at the same time- Uther blamed himself for what happened to Igraine. Then he developed headaches and I became concerned. There were the erratic mood swings where he was previously very calm. Stern, yes, and commanding, but his authority was accepted for respect fairly earned, not from fear and intimidation. We thought it was due to other pressures. Grief. I should have been more aware but honestly was too deeply shocked myself by what was happening. All the healers and physicians were. Some called me a traitor from the pyre itself.

 He became unpredictable. You remember from your childhood the _results_ of that. 

No one realised how serious the king’s situation was, and I failed to make the connections until some very serious complications showed in the years that followed and saw a similar case without the same circumstances. His citing conversations that we’d never had, forgetting people, the rapid switches in mood. I began to treat him to the best of my ability for more serious damage, and when he had headache remedies I’d sometimes mix it with sedatives or things that have an emotional numbing effect, which has both advantages and drawbacks. I had to be careful not to do it each time, only at the worst, so that he would not realise any difference or link the two, especially after I began to treat Morgana, as limited as we were with that. Eventually I found something that stabilised his emotions enough to continue as king while reducing the severity of the Purge, but by then it had become an obsession. I doubt he could have stopped even if he wanted to; and he had certainly accumulated many grievances against magic by then. Real _and_ constructed, created many enemies. It seemed to plateau and stop worsening, he stabilised; or he learned to compensate and manage it, but the personality changes were permanent. When Lord Geoffrey and I say ‘he wasn’t always like that’, it is no exaggeration, or attempt to rid ourselves of guilt for ever following him. We were friends; but so were Uther and Nimue once, and he burned enough of his old friends and allies for me to know where I'd likely end up… and I did indeed go bound to the pyre. Thank you for intervening then, _before_ they lit the kindling.  It was appreciated.” Gaius paused seeming to try and find the right words for something that had none. 

“The way people are made up is so complicated sire, and poorly understood. Uther at his core still cares about and wants to protect _his people,_ but his definition of _how_ and _what from_ changed drastically, as has his definition of _‘his people’,_ something he sadly taught you.  
He is still under it all the same man, and he _knows_ that things went wrong due to his being beaten in a fight by a sorceress- I don’t think it was ever _meant_ to harm him that way. You’ve seen it yourself, even in _friendly_ sparring or tournaments there can be freak accidents or poor landings. He remembers everything about Igraine, and that a life was traded for yours. In the end it was hers. You were a child, and could not have ruled, then there came the war with Mercia, the last time he fought openly, and the first you saw the battlefield. He was advised against that, having king and heir both present, but was adamant you would be fine.” Arthur shivered as he recalled just how close that had been, and his first sight of the horrors of war.  “Thankfully you returned. Without knowing exactly what caused the damage I couldn’t use magic to cure it, even if it had been legal- which it wasn’t. We don’t know why some head injuries cause no damage or little, and others are profound or worsen over time, as Uther’s was. Or why the result doesn’t always bear out what is visible on the surface. Morgana’s loss and turning against him I think simply triggered the final stage of an illness that he has fought for many years. Uther is not _mad_ Arthur, though I have had cause to question it enough. He is _absolutely_ _sane,_ and yet at the same time, the Uther who first became king ceased to exist years ago, leaving in his place a man who we would not have fought for to win Camelot. Bitter and hollow. I don’t know about any of the others, but I know for myself who I would have followed instead.” Gaius watched him carefully as he continued without offering a name.

“Queen Igraine trained under Nimue. Not with specific intent to become a priestess herself, but to manage her magic sensibly, otherwise being raised around dragons would have driven her crazy. Kilgarrah and his brethren have to listen to a dragonlord, but their daughter’s don’t inherit or pass on the gifts to sons, not infrequently they are visionaries of some sort, Seers, or prophetesses, or healers. Different arms of the same magic. Actually, daughters are quite unusual for a dragonlord, and were highly prized, it was one of the things that caused the sense of responsibility they felt for Seers despite the tensions with dragons, and one of the things that stopped the dragons flaming those who disagreed with them. Igraine had magic, but not like Merlin, or Balinor, it’s inhibited specifically in the women of those clans. There’s never anything destructive or combative there, often only the passive type despite the strength of the bloodline- at least visible to _us_. There are good reasons, I asked her once what they were but she only smiled and shushed me, and they were lost with the rest of the lore of Merlin’s people, in the unlikely case of them ever being written down. It seems less urgent to do so when one is bound to a creature that lives for millenia and spoke in person to one’s forebears. They did not have a particularly high opinion of libraries such as Lord Geoffrey’s.

 So the Queen and Nimue were close, and the High Priestess was often here after so long as Igraine’s confidante and friend; she disapproved of your mother’s choice to marry Uther, but respected her decision. Her own motivations were not entirely certain or she may have been more outspoken against that decision, it was a complicated relationship they had. I’m not sure even they understood it fully themselves.” 

Arthur nodded, he understood those, had them himself.

“Igraine prioritised the stability of the kingdom and safety of Camelot’s people over all else, it’s why she was willing to seek Nimue’s help to conceive and carry to term. She understood the cost of a life, and the rule of Balance. It’s possible she thought that Uther’s rejection of Morgana and demand for a son would require him to give up one child for another, or that since he was the one she was making a sacrifice for he would also be the one to pay the price. I don’t know.  Being who she was perhaps she even simply understood the importance of your birth. Whatever the thinking was behind her choices, Nimue agreed to Igraine’s request on the basis that she would remain here until the prince- you- were born. Nimue was the best of us all in healing, for all you’ve only seen her expertise in the dark arts, and was extremely protective of Igraine. _Almost_ as protective as you and Merlin are of the other.  Things that no one else could do more for than ease someone’s passing she would undo with no shred of doubt. So stay she did, to Uther’s increasing displeasure. He had been friendly with her before, welcomed and respected her, they remained largely outwardly amicable for the sake of Igraine.  As soon as she was certain she had conceived, the Queen moved to separate chambers and never shared a bed with Uther again. There were rumours about why she put that distance between them, but Igraine never entertained a one of them, or answered questions posed to her. Morgana wasn’t present at court, nor her mother, and her parentage was certainly not common knowledge, though Uther’s unfaithfulness was less well hidden. More than enough reason in that alone for there to be a rift between them I think. Thought. Whatever the case truly was between the two women, by the end of her pregnancy Uther had formed his own opinions and had more than one confrontation with Nimue. During the worst where he grabbed her roughly- no one touched a priestess disrespectfully- and she threw him off on instinct; his shoulder was broken when he slammed against a stone corner, his sword arm. Only mutual concern for your mother keeping their restraint in place and preventing it from escalating to further violence, likely a full duel. He never forgave her that, it weakened him and limited the movement somewhat, and by the time of your birth they were openly hostile towards each other. Uther blamed Nimue for Igraine pulling away from him,”

Arthur snorted, it sounded typical of Uther; not that he’d met many amicable sorceresses either mind you, “Like most priestesses and her own kinswomen Igraine believed that the birthing chamber was for women alone and that men have no place there. Uther wasn’t happy about that, and liked it less when I agreed with them that he had no place in it, and certainly no entitlement to be in attendance.”

The prince was genuinely surprised, “You’re often present at births.”

Gaius looked melancholy, “I am who is left, if they want to have someone there. Carrying a child and giving birth is dangerous, women frequently die or are damaged, and there can be complications. Few remain who are willing to assist in births in case something goes wrong and the parents accuse them of sorcery. It used to be a choice for the woman, as it should be. So when Igraine died, Uther was not by her side and the one he saw as a rival, imagined was his replacement _was,_ because it was her sacred duty to be. She swore to protect and serve the Triple Goddess. The Mother can be unforgiving of a broken vow. The Morrigan more so.” Gaius closed his eyes against the barrage of memories, “They were both so blinded by grief, and rage, and the unfairness of it all… and guilt. Never underestimate what a person will do to avoid or reject guilt, or motivated by that and remorse.  Both of them played their part. Uther pushing her and demanding it, Igraine making the deal knowing of the balance; neither she nor Nimue could ever have chosen which life to exchange, it doesn’t work like that. That power in the hands of any man or woman would be terrible indeed.” So Merlin hadn’t told Gaius about that personal feature, interesting the prince thought as he wondered why. The physician’s eyes were clouded over with memory so he didn’t notice Arthur instinctive reaction to his words before it was quickly covered.  
Gaius shook his head, “Every man and woman has regrets. They fought when he blamed her for Igraine’s death, ignoring her tears, and screamed for the guards to arrest Nimue. Igraine had kept them both from violence or open aggression and her death devastated them both. In her absence nothing held them back. I don’t know who moved first, but the high priestess at least was surprised enough that he managed to land a blow, her own caused him to lose consciousness and sustain a skull fracture. Emotions can make a sorceress’s control slip; being approached aggressively while holding a baby does it to any woman, and at that moment she held you in her arms. Despite her later actions towards us- towards you- she looked and saw an innocent babe too precious to risk. She ignored him and returned to your mother’s side, looking numbly at the lifeless body of her friend, still holding you. I rather expect seeing birth blood in the setting the guards acted without thought in their clumsy attempts to approach her. She made me swear to protect you before she left to tell Igraine’s second family at the Blessed Isle what had happened; I suspect that when she died she believed wholly in my failure.”

Arthur swallowed, mind reeling, “She said at the caves after she tricked me it was not my fate to die at her hand. I was alone and open then, she could have killed me easily.”

Gaius smiled mildly, “She was right. Your _fate_ as it were lies elsewhere. I wonder why she didn’t recognise Merlin until the end. He is- _was_ careless then, and obvious, she targeted him deliberately and _should have_ realised.”

Arthur hummed and pressed his fingertips together. “Merlin says we’re trained to not see servants, and I believe him, I don’t remember the names of most who have served me before him. Maybe she wasn’t looking, or looked for the wrong thing. Or maybe she just wanted him to prove it first. Perhaps it was a silent test, like Mab’s.” Gaius didn’t offer an answer, staying quiet to allow the younger man to think, his distress and alarm was obvious though and his hands shaking after recounting such things. It was too much to expect one man to deal with, despite giving him an answer he desperately wanted to reject, that would satisfy _any_ Lord. It was as he thought this that he suddenly realised again that he _wasn’t_ just one man to carry it all anymore, and the pressure lifted just a little, still Arthur sat shaking his head in horror, the implications for him staggering. 

“Then my whole life…” He looked sharply at Gaius. “Who has been running Camelot all these years, really?”

Gaius looked back at him sadly and replied bluntly. “Your father. Those your age know nothing else, few my age survived, those who did live fled,  and so we lost full crafts of people above and beyond actual sorceresses and sorcerers. The traditional responsibilities of the dragonlords were no longer attended to because there were none. The healers no longer existed, midwives were too afraid, and many _were_ at least hedge-witches. Battle sorcerers and warlocks no longer reinforced our defences, but to mention the weakening of those would be a death sentence. Certain traders stopped passing through the land due to past associations or having family who couldn’t enter here. Our fields grew less productive- they give _enough,_ no one is left to starve as long as we are not in famine, but our wealth is depleted as there is less abundance. Our learning is stunted and will remain so as long as those who would be capable of and willing to  teach avoid the place. Likely a time when their existence is legal.  
Scholars usually learn in temples, or with the Druids, or with the men of the New religion- who are largely in support of suppressing magic. The sorcerers who would teach knights to fight against magic, train them, and the shields they’d need are locked in a horde, with everything else. Nothing was exactly _wrong_ with Uther for a long time, except for the change to his personality and terrible headaches, and you can’t topple a king on that basis, with no suitable heir, of an age to rule or without a good regent. Most of your possible ones would have been more threat than protector, at least one tried to kill you already despite not being first in line after you; the only other possibilities were exiled by then.”

Arthur rose and started pacing, “So, since the heir now _is_ of age, and requires no regent, being regent himself to the infirm king that factor is removed. Gaius, I want you to testify against him. Uther may not be mad but you have been treating him for years for what you could, and The kingdom, Morgana, and myself have all suffered from his grudges and injuries, and you have helped him to continue this long if nothing else it is unhealthy. This cannot continue, and I cannot risk waiting while Morgana regroups and people continue to suffer. Will you help me stop the injustice? Will you follow me, or fall with my father? Consider carefully physician. You are important to me personally, and to Merlin, but if Emrys cannot make the decision to hold you accountable for your actions _I can._ This is your one chance Gaius, but I will demand your _full_ allegiance, not a divided one. Can you give me that? Stop cooperating willingly with the current king? ”

Gaius met the penetrating gaze of the crown prince proudly, “There was once a time I gave my oath to your father, I am afraid to break it, Unsure if it is possible. That Uther no longer exists, he has faded, and blackened his soul and my own. I will try. There is a chance it could work if the Old religion agrees that the man I swore allegiance to is finally gone.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, “I did not ask you to _try_ Gaius. I asked for your undivided loyalty.”

The old man didn’t try to avoid his stare, “I heard, but you _deserve_ my honesty, you always have. If I was my own man, or had someone to ask, perhaps I could be certain. My oath has been given Arthur, _long ago_ , I cannot give you undivided allegiance, and I would if I could. All I can swear to and be absolutely certain is not in conflict with the oaths that hold me, is that I WILL testify to the Council that Uther suffers from an old and degenerative injury and is unfit to resume his duties. Merlin knows a half truth of that, because he is _your_ father, and I need your permission to disclose some aspects. It was your right to know first, and I disrespected _Merlin_ in that way. Hard as it is for an old man to change, I’m trying not to make the _same_ mistakes again. I would gladly see you as permanent Regent, or as Camelot’s king and I will give you everything I _can_. Nor do I believe that doing so conflicts with my Oath of allegiance to Uther, because the man I made that to would be proud of the man you are today, and gratified to see you lead. Do what you wish with me Sire, but please, whatever you decide, look after Merlin. Destiny has not been kind to him.” Gaius anxiety showed through, a sentiment he’d only rarely shown in Arthur’s experience.  
Merlin seemed to have a habit of drawing out people’s emotions and truth, often against their own wishes or intent.  
The prince nodded sharply, “Very few things have. Or people. I will look after him as much as anyone can, better than most. I know who he is and what we must do together. Who _we_ are. What we are to each other now. Whatever the knights claim.”

Gaius sighed in relief; his expression sobered as he watched the crown prince frowning, “I am sorry for many things in my life Arthur, but whatever Uther has done _you_ were a child, neither the cause of his actions, nor responsible for the course he undertook. In all of this horror you were the one good thing to come out of it.”

Arthur pinched his brow frowning, “And Merlin.”

Gaius glanced away long enough for Arthur to notice, _“Gaius?”_

The old physician sighed, he seemed to be doing a lot of that these days, “Do please _try_ to understand Sire; Merlin… Merlin exists _as he is_ because of you; because of your birth and the Purge. The son of Lord Balinor and Lady Hunith would have been born regardless of your existence, and come into his birthright as a dragonlord. He would have been a warlock even; but _Emrys_ only exists, at least in this form, when the Once and Future king- that’s you Arthur- comes. I don’t know what was before or comes after. Merlin is the son of my heart, but the prophecies say Emrys is the son of the Earth, sea and sky. Magic in human form. The balance as man when someone sought power and tried relentlessly to harm it, until they finally managed to alter the balance of the world.  
 The meaning of everything has been argued for longer than such things have been recorded in written form, but it is always wise to be wary of trying to define those things, especially in prophecies with groups of threes. I would expect the fourth element to be included in that and it is not, perhaps assumed by his heritage. I’ve never told him of such writings because knowing would be dangerous, and deeply unwise without one who has greater understanding, such as Balinor or a High Priest. I think that given how little guidance he _has_ had- guidance that in many cases I was not able to give him fully sire, being a sorcerer rather than a witch myself- it would be unwise for _you not_ to have some little idea of what you are dealing with. Merlin is human, so _very, wonderfully_ _human_ ; but those who studied and knew more than me, dissected the lore or themselves were seers and prophetesses, including his kin, and the priestesses, did not define him as _only_ human. It is something I have never told Merlin, and never will, because that would be cruel, and might have reinforced his fear that he is a monster. He is not. Merlin is no monster. Emrys is no monster. They are one and the same. The way the Prince Regent and Arthur are one and the same. 

He is the living proof for those with magic that you are who you claim to be, and no one can imitate him, mimic it convincingly. The closest in potency is Morgana. No one will ever match him Arthur, please understand that. Don’t push him to shed that humanity and humility the way you do with the knights, the way you _have to_ do with the knights. There’s always a cost, as you know, when you take a life. I’ve wronged Merlin, despite also protecting him, but I love him like a son, whether or not he can ever fully forgive me, that will never change. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. His love is a precious thing, in any form, and fierce.” 

Arthur was stony faced as he answered, "I’ve no intention of it. Nor has _he._ Very well Gaius. _Everything_ you can give me, and full cooperation. If Uther hears of this first or you don't keep your word, then love of Merlin or not, your life will be forfeit for your part in the past persecution."

Gaius nodded, hands folded together, answering in a more respectful tone than Arthur had heard him use with Uther in many years, so long he’d forgotten it. "Yes sire." 

He cleared his throat and pushed away a flood of childhood memories."It is long passed time, and you should have told me years ago when I was first old enough. Nimue was right, you did fail me, but Merlin didn’t, and in your own way you kept us both alive and sane. The council meets tomorrow. Don’t be late.” Arthur’s heart was hammering, mind screaming at him, and his fists clenched tightly to keep himself together, he paused in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, “Oh, and Gaius; Merlin defended you on that count, including the injury from Nimue’s duel. Never send him to work with me so injured again.”  He let the door swing shut behind him, thankful that the man scribing seemed not to have registered anything.  
As a younger man Arthur would have run from the chambers or left a scene of destruction, his anger now was not less- if anything it burned more intensely- but he did value not being the topic of public speculation and idle gossip, and was slightly better at handling his emotions than he had been. Slightly.

He still needed to fight someone. Desperately.

 

Merlin had been expecting to turn and face Lord Geoffrey, and was instead greeted by Lachlan’s ghost, not reassured by the troubled expression, “He needs you, be waiting in the armoury, use the short-cut.” 

Merlin didn’t ask for details, if his own recent interactions with Gaius were anything to go by, the deep set infection that needed lancing would be no less painful for understanding the necessity. He would be waiting; so as the crown prince stormed into the armoury with death in his eyes, he was standing ready to start buckling Arthur into his mail and armour.

“Thank you.” bit out the Prince, which was more communication without a blow than he’d have expected weeks ago and Merlin’s worried eyes flicked up to his face. 

“Right. That’s it. Perce and Gwaine are on the field, or…” Merlin looked at the rage and pain churning in the closed face and swallowed, “Or I could let you use me to let it go without actually hurting anyone.”

“Not all of us can melt rock Merlin, but after tomorrow’s meeting you can definitely show me that trick. The knights will suffice until then. I believe that may be my limit.” 

His manservant stood quietly aside and followed behind him without any of his usual prattle, respecting the Prince’s frame of mind.    
Catching the attention of Sirs Percival and Gwaine was easy. Watching the brutal session Merlin frequently winced, there was no calm holding back today whatever the others thought they saw, Merlin caught rage and grief, the fury and desolation and focus that shouldn’t go together and yet did. Frequently. Leon and Lancelot were casting concerned looks at the other three, but not intervening. Leon seemed slightly less awkward around him than the last time Merlin had seen him, which was encouraging. Merlin stayed, for all of them, with their different reasons. Polishing and sharpening second swords and openly reading something unwise. It wasn’t actually any more surprising than a servant reading at all, and in Camelot many people seemed to ignore anything mildly strange. He wasn’t quite sure whether it was intentional or not, and years of observation hadn’t solved the mystery. He doubted the next half hour would. 

A wispy young woman materialised beside him and feeling the chill he smiled, not looking up. “Hello Eileen.”

She looked at him, “I didn’t mean to scare Sir Leon the gossip.”

Merlin huffed in amusement, “Oh no, he was just surprised. Had a challenging week and realised many things he was taught are untrue. You apparently are welcome though, whatever you did, it hasn’t scared him properly. Lachlan on the other hand is very much Not Allowed to visit him. Leon is nowhere near as ready as Percy and the Crazy One for that.”

The ghost smiled, “Will you tell the girl about him.”

Merlin looked blankly at her for a minute before understanding, “Oh! Gwen. Um… yeah. If she asks anyway. Not sure I’m quite ready to announce that to people. He’s not known for his virtue, our Gwaine. Wherever it goes he’ll always be Strength to us, and Mine in a way others are not. Not many would put up with half a coin and knowing they’d come second.”

She shrugged. “You make him happy. He makes you happy. There is love between you both, and you care for each other, even if it doesn’t always look that way. Like you and your king in that way. When you are angry he helps, and when the King is upset, he serves. I like watching them. Even if they can’t see me or offer a flower anymore.”

Her warlock smiled and glanced up to her wistful face, “Do you have a favourite?”

“Sir Percival.” She said firmly, “and Sir Lancelot is very pretty.”

Merlin snorted, “I meant flower.”

“Oh.” She paused for a moment, “Wood anemone, or primrose; and the smell of honeysuckle. They are rarely brought to the castle and not grown in the gardens.” Merlin shook his head ruefully, it made sense, to miss something so close and so far. He didn’t know if the ghosts were bound to Camelot, or free to move, but the woods were visible and close enough to taunt someone who loved them once. Holding out a hand he whispered something that he had perfected after Freya, because even _he_ conceded that a red rose was a bit too cliched, and he was no boy but a man grown. Opening it one of each lay one his palm and she smiled widely, “That’s very sweet Merlin, but I can’t touch things.” The bright smile he’d been missing returned, “Try, they’re made of magic, it _might_ work.” He quirked an eyebrow upwards and her answering smile was wry. 

“Well then, I suppose it would be rude not to at least try.”

Her hands trembled as she lifted them and a phantom tear escaped. Reaching up she wove them through her hair and whispered the only reply she could, _“Thank you Emrys."_

He shrugged, “I can hardly call myself a gentleman if I bring Gwen some and skip you, can I; and I doubt the knights would be as effective at giving you flowers these days- even Percy and Lance.”

She giggled at his side, “Probably not. I think you should take the Once and Future King to meet the Great dragon tonight Merlin, he is ready and needs to see. Set aside the old fears. Arthur has eaten beside and accepted gifts from kings and Lords who fought against him on the battlefield and tried to kill him with far less cause than the Great dragon. He can put their past to rest in the same way. Once enemies can become allies just as once allies can defect to become enemies. Give them a chance.” She caught his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Merlin wondered what it looked like to the knights, but it wasn’t truly important. He’d take what comfort he could, while he could.

 

Gwaine had planned to keep an eye on Merlin, but it proved impossible with Arthur in the frame of mind he’d returned in. Percival was becoming concerned about their leader, and Gwaine was _fairly sure_ that it wasn’t about his arrangement with Merlin, because he was as violent and furious with Percival, and didn’t stop until he was pinned and they were the only ones remaining on the field.  Gwaine finally had enough of the anger and attitude without any explanation and lowered his sword as Arthur let Percival back up, speaking firmly, “Princess. That’s one hell of a push for ‘sparring’. Something we should be worried about or rehearsing for?” He lifted a brow,  Arthur had got rid of some energy and tension at least and stood slightly less rigidly.

“It was just a difficult conversation with Gaius. Useful.”

Gwaine nodded slowly, “Like yesterday was useful?”

Arthur grimaced and shuddered, “Yes. That kind.”

“Alright. You gonna need anything specific for the meeting of the round table tonight?”

Arthur gulped; “You. Sober. Merlin, as sane as he ever is. The others present. Maybe a memory or two erased. Probably one of Merlin’s _friends,_ definitely not his family. A barrel of mead for after it. Take him out Gwaine, he needs the practice, and the space, and I need to talk to Lord Geoffrey alone before the meeting.”  
“Your wish is my command Princess. In this at least.” He winked at the prince, “You’ll be keeping him late tonight then.”

A smile pulled at the side of Arthur’s mouth, “Yes, almost definitely. If you have a problem with it that’s tough.”

Gwaine shrugged, “Nope. Just wanted to know if I should leave food out or not. Might have to plant it in his room. He won’t eat at the council, or the rushed bit after except a few nicked bites. It’ll be well over twelve hours if his standard pattern holds, but that’s a helluva lot better than the three days he was going far too frequently between proper meals, and don’t tell him you got that from me. Merlin’s punishments are bloody diabolical.”

Percival looked between them, nodding as if suddenly understanding something, “They really are. The man is an evil genius. Cunning. Creative. You never see it coming. That’s what makes it worse than oblivious Gwaine here.”

Arthur cleared his throat, “Best not call him oblivious anymore. Percy, you may have to speak tonight about justifying your opinion, or your experience. It’s not something I ask you to do lightly. You would not be the only one sharing.” Arthur glared at Gwaine, who looked troubled, “If that is what you wish, Sire.”

Arthur sighed, “We’ll see. I’m unsure yet. There are really only two of us who are without choice. He’ll meet you at the stables in an hour Gwaine. Don’t break him. I think I’d be held accountable if you did.”

“Nope sire, his kin was quite clear about my oath and obligation. If I _break him_ I get roasted, quite literally, long before your sword could touch me.”

Percival gaped and Gwaine folding his arms prompted him to close his mouth muttering “Nothing.”

The secretish noble hummed, “We’ll be there in plenty of time Princess, even if we have to persuade it, he wouldn’t miss this.”

Arthur watched his friend and nodded sharply before sheathing his sword. “See that your own injuries are tended first.” Gwaine stared after him as he strode away from them to Merlin, calling over the ‘idiot servant, always blethering’ as he stalked to the armoury, leaving Percival and Gwaine the only two left on the field. _Who_ he’d been talking to only Merlin knew, because there was no one visible when they looked. Percival shrugged, “It’s Merlin.” Gwaine nodded. That was and had been an answer to a ridiculous number of questions over the years and was a standing joke among all the knights.

“Gwaine. What do you know about metaphors, and legends?” Percival asked hesitantly.

Gwaine gave him a measuring look, “Well, Percy, that depends entirely on why you are asking.”

Percival paused, turning things over in his mind about how Gwaine might react or what he could have heard. “Because I have a nasty suspicion we may be living one. You know how I got here, my history and with a family like that... stories are important to the druids, sagas, that sort of thing; poetry, ballads… prophecies.”

Gwaine’s jaw set, certain now that the huge man knew. “There are no prophecies in Camelot Perce. No heroes of legend or coins of any sort, we clear? There are _our friends_ and _our reality._ Don’t you let some third hand prophecy tell you what to do, you do what you think is right, what Dana would _want_ you to do _because_ it’s right.”

“So there are no kings of legend or Emrys then?”

“Well that would be illegal Perce, wouldn’t it. Things like that don't happen in Camelot, there aren't even allusions in the library to risk it spreading, or rumours. It’d be crazy for any of them to come here, completely idiotic, what with it being punishable by a terrible death. Anyone with an ounce of self preservation would leave. Even if prophecies _were_ a thing, which they aren't, or we listened to Druids that we haven't met. "

Percival swallowed. “Right. Of course. I’d thought the same thing, couldn’t possibly be that. I mean that would be crazy, so of course it wouldn’t be here or now. I appreciate the assurance that my conclusion was not incorrect, Dana would be ecstatic- and laughing herself silly. I told her they were impossible. Obviously since it doesn’t happen I won’t ask or mention it to anyone else. They are aware…?”

Gwaine kept his voice low, gripping Percival’s shoulder. “They know who they are, and they know each other now. You’ve seen that things are changing, and we’re _not_ going to push them. Enough already have.”

Percival’s eyebrows knit together, “His kin?”

“Not my secrets to tell.” Gwaine growled.

"You _have_ secrets to tell?" Percival sounded sceptical. 

"Every man keeps secrets mate. If any god but Loki of the northmen is listening, I won't have to tell them tonight. Judging by the mood the Princess is in, and the honesty kick the rest of the deities seem to be on, my chances aren't good. Although if it goes along expected lines mine might even not even be noticed. Except by Leon."

"Why Leon?" Percival was genuinely curious the pair were often in conflict with each other. 

Gwaine shrugged off handedly "I’ve been pretending for a long time now, but I saw him as a boy. I'm hoping he's forgotten. He gets a kick out of pulling rank on me though. He'll notice it, and I suspect he’ll try to punish me for it, unless Merlin steps in, because Arthur definitely won’t." 

Percival stayed quiet. He'd wondered since Merlin’s casual mention of Avalon - initially because no one _ever_ spoke of that place with less than true reverence. Not as though it was a place of comfort or that one could simply ‘find’, let alone return from. Then he'd begun to rethink events since meeting Merlin, 'jokes' he'd made. Most of all the very tight bond between him and Arthur combined with his now obvious magic. He wondered if Gwen knew what she was getting in to; he doubted it. The once and future King was not described as a friend of Emrys, as others were, but as the other half of him. Whatever you interpreted that to mean, he doubted she'd appreciate not being informed if Arthur continued to court her. He was suddenly glad Merlin had warned him already about the next round table meeting. Whatever the Prince had in mind it certainly would be extremely busy, and Merlin wasn't being granted a seat at the table for punishment, or even the merit of his advice. Percival just hoped the others reacted well…And sensibly. 

"Percy, forget it until tonight OK. It'll make more sense then. Go get washed and beg someone with low standards or a size kink to help ease the pain of being Arthur's stress relief. I have to be somewhere, but I will be up later if you want someone to drink with." Percival raised an eyebrow in mild judgement. 

"I know what this is about mate, no fucking way I'm going to sleep stone cold sober, or any of the others. Fine. Talk to. Happy now?" 

"Much better Gwaine. Unlike some I don't need anyone with low standards or poor morals. I'll take you up on the offer anyway if you don't want to spend it with Merlin." 

Gwaine stilled, not wanting rumours to begin about the three of them. "Merlin will be unavailable tonight, Princess will need him, and Merlin will need the Princess. My part comes after." He shrugged. 

"You really mean that, don't you. This isn't just another bedwarmer fling." 

"Aye, I really do, but I'm a reasonable man Percival, and I care about the pair of them enough not to want to add conflict and pain. Both are good friends. To me and to each other, in their different ways. Let's just say I've got the approval of those who really matter, and their support, yeah? I'm going to be a work widower though. I hope you can lower your standards enough to spend some evenings gaming with me. Merlin is never going to be _less_ busy, but as long as he'll have me I'll be whatever he needs. You saw it before I did you monolithic bastard. Could have given me a heads up."

Percival grinned, "I thought it was so painfully obvious that you two must've had a reason not to. Like a Rule from Prince Arthur, or him not being willing to share an ex or something. Seriously, _how_ could you not know? You said that you stayed for him. _How_ could you not notice your own damn feelings? Or his? And really Gwaine, he's been looking at you in a non fraternal way since I met you both. Probably longer. Not something that is easy to ask here though is it. Poor guy, if the rest wasn't enough in Camelot."

"Actually it's not what you think, but that's not my place to tell you. Go on, stop gossiping, and take advantage of this peace before the storm. I envy you it. Mine long since disappeared. Can't stay. Long day ahead."

Gwaine left a wondering and slightly stunned peasant knight behind him, and hoped he hadn't gone too far. Percival had always been a good listener though and with a druid wife and in laws, it was only surprising that he hadn't seen it sooner. Gwaine did trust him not to mention it, any more than he mentioned his murdered family. "Goodbye Gwaine. Bring the decent ale today." 

"Nae fear mate. If I knew where to get it I would be looking for something stronger than the rich wine." 

Percival half smiled, "Then don't do anything stupid, and while you can't make them cooperate at least try to keep them from anything too reckless." 

"Far too late for that but the sentiment is appreciated."

Gwaine returned to his chamber and collected the relevant weapons and walked calmly down to the stables with an obviously excessive amount, glad now that those who ranked lower than him would not think to ask about them. Merlin’s face as he was noticed, cleared briefly with a true smile. "Tell me when we get there." Merlin nodded. "That's better than my plan was." He said.

"I keep telling people -" 

Merlin held his hand up, "Shut up. When we get there, so don't dither." 

Gwaine shook his head, "No." and took off Merlin following closely, barely remaining behind him even before they reached the city gates. 

 


End file.
